


Interstellar Overdrive

by riggitywrecked



Series: Interstellar Overdrive [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bad Science, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Memory Loss, Meta, No Incest, Psychedelic, Shitty Ex Boyfriend, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, can't believe i have to say that, pop culture references, so much drug use, some sexy scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riggitywrecked/pseuds/riggitywrecked
Summary: You are a rather successful human who has managed to carve out a respectful place in the interplanetary drug trade. During your time gaining and exercising influence, an ex-boyfriend feels threatened by you and arranges a back-alley treatment to install a gemstone in your brain that allows him to track and manipulate your thoughts.Interested in the reward you offered to anyone who could remove the gem, as well as a few illegal substances you have access to, Rick offers to help.NOTE: After the first chapter it changes from third to second person. (so from "she" to "you!")
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Original Female Character(s), Rick Sanchez/Reader
Series: Interstellar Overdrive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622179
Comments: 22
Kudos: 79





	1. Stir Fry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure exactly where this story is going but it was an idea I couldn't get out of my head. I've never written a fanfic before, but I've roleplayed for a big chunk of my life so it was weird writing something solo. Idk I have a few directions in mind where it might go. I'm half-considering making it rick x reader. Idk any suggestions/feedback (are welcome unless you ship cest, in that case gtfo). Title might change. Everything is pretty much a placeholder except for the one constant: made-up outer space druuuuugs. ps sorry the spacing is kinda funky, still getting used to the format on here.

Alana wasn’t sure how long she had been awake- the gemstone in the back of her head tended to affect her perception of time. Plus living in a tiny little habitat which orbited an obscure planet in the dead of space made it easy to detach from concepts like “day” or “night.” 

What mattered right now was that she felt perfectly energetic. Was it because of a manic episode? That question was irrelevant. She would ride this feeling for as long as possible, simply grateful to have experienced a rush of inspiration after such a long dry spell. 

_“Money changin' colors like tie-dye_

_I'm just tryna get it, I ain't tryna die”_

The hub that she currently occupied had been recently abandoned. Likely because of space pirates or something, based on the state it was in when she first arrived. The structure seemed to have originally been inhabited by explorers or colonists who had managed to build a decent enough station, apparently meant for scientific research as far as she could tell. Maybe the old occupants were still alive out in the universe, kidnapped and forced to work in Aquifect-8’s kroynor mines or safely back on their home planet, with stories of narrowly escaping raiders to tell their dorky colleagues. Regardless, the spoils of all their past efforts were hers to defile, and she had immediately gotten to work once she’d managed to successfully break into the place.

Alana had practically cried upon seeing all the high-quality lab equipment when she first arrived, since only a few random pieces had been smashed or discarded. The artificial gravity still worked and the place even had its own greenhouse, with top-notch humidifiers, glass paneling and the pipes for hydroponics (the old crew clearly grew most of their own food). 

If one of her most trusted partners hadn’t given her the tip that this base was out here, gathering dust and ripe for the taking, Alana might have thought it too perfect to be true. Whoever or whatever had chased off the original occupants hadn’t been interested in destroying this beautiful collection of resources which she eagerly began using to make drugs.

And while she first worried about a The Thing scenario, she hadn’t been Thinged just yet, so she considered herself in the clear. Alana had spent about half a year now using this place as her unofficial HQ, occasionally leaving when she felt stir crazy or needed to meet someone to do business, but always returning to this place as her temporary home. It offered the ultimate refuge, which was a naturally occurring magnetic field that somehow blocked any interference with the gemstone in her head. But she didn’t want to think about the stone right now. She was on a roll. 

_“She got a big ol' onion booty, make the world cry_

_In the kitchen, wrist twistin' like it’s stir fry”_

Swishing through the reclaimed station in a long, pale leopard print coat, bleached denim cutoffs and a white halter top, Alana coordinated her work with the music that shuddered through the room she was working in. She wore a few peculiar rings and a delicate golden anklet above one of her green suede chelsea boots, which occasionally glittered in the dim, moody lighting she preferred over fluorescent bulbs, supplemented by tall candles peppered throughout the room.

“Wow. I’m really feelin myself right now, huh” she said under her breath, impressed with herself at a level that very much indicated a manic episode. Alana hummed along to the song as she uncorked a vial of plant extract and poured it into a large test tube partially filled with a furry orange dust without taking care to measure either ingredient. 

* * *

“Rick why don’t you just….augh! Just tell me why we’re here!? It’s b-better if we’re on the, y’know on the same page!” Morty stuttered while scrambling through the jagged hole that had just been carved through a nearby wall with a laser from the device his grandpa nonchalantly produced, then tucked back into a random pocket. Random wires draped overhead and one thwacked him as he crawled, burning his cheek. Rick effortlessly vaulted through after him, disdainfully watching the teenager rub his face as he straightened up on the other side. 

“Morty, I wo _eurgh_ -uld believe you if I hadn’t experienced a m-multitude of...all kinds of adventures which proved otherwise. Wh _eugh-_ y don’t you just practice your critical thinking and try to fi-figure it out yourself?”

After scowling sourly in his grandfather’s direction, Morty began to think out loud while they walked, much to Rick's remorse. “Fine. Y-you said you wanted to make some kind of potion-”

“Solution, Morty. Solution. Bas-iiiighhc scientific vocabulary.” He glanced down at Morty and grimaced at the blank look he was met with. “A h-homogeneous mixture composed of two or more substances.” They reached a dead end and the older man absentmindedly took out a gadget that looked similar to a barcode reader while he continued to speak.

“Y-You dissolve some shit into some other shit to make one shit? Y-Y’know, I get that you’re constantly living in a haze of hormonal daydreams informed by unrealistic expectations of romance and heroic masculinity...” After clicking a button on the thing, a charge shot out into what appeared to be a camouflaged keypad which Morty hadn’t noticed until it lit up. Rick typed into it aimlessly as he went on.

“But i-it is possible to learn these things while simultaneously obsessing over titties, Morty. I’m living proof.”

Morty begrudgingly began to speak before Rick abruptly held up a hand.

“Wait M-Morty, shut the fu _ughh_ k up. Is that…Am I hearing Migos right now?”

* * *

Alana rhythmically undulated her hips as she removed her test tube from the blue flame beneath it, then watched the sparkling violet liquid inside cascade and combine with the thick wax-like substance she was stirring in a large pan with her other practiced hand. As she continued to stir, she turned up the heat of the stove, causing the liquid around the mixture to burn away. “Mama mia!” she tittered as she relished the sweet, almost raunchy smell, rapidly moving the pan as soon as it started to smoke and sliding the new compound into a huge glass bowl full of dry ice. As plumes of white smoke billowed from its edges, Alana admired the resulting reaction. 

Large serrated crystals began to blossom on the surface of the goo, their translucent shade of lavender almost bringing a tear to her eye. “Oh my fucking G,” she mumbled, plucking one with a pair of tweezers and rushing to a microscope surrounded by takeout boxes and an overflowing ashtray.

_“Control the bag now_

_no need to brag now_

_Ayy, put the mask down_

_we livin' fast now”_

Alana gasped, her eye pressed into the microscope, hands planted on either side of it. The center of the crystal was a perfect cruciform. Like a little bedstraw flower. Four perfect little points. 

She drifted away from the table, completely giving into her urge to dance, closing her eyes and grinning. The stars and faraway planets seemed to glow warmly with her through the large round window over her shoulder. 

_“I get money, tunnel vision through my third eye_

_In that skillet, watch me flip it like it's Five Guys_

_Look at my pilgrim, take off the-_ **BEEEEP** _”_

A sudden interruption immediately killed her vibe, a twist that her delusions of grandeur did not appreciate. A female AI spoke over the sound of the music, which had unexpectedly lowered to almost an inaudible level.

“Alana. I have turned down the volume of your song. You have. Two Visitors. Welcome: Humanoid. Guests.”

Alana stopped in her tracks, her eyes darting to her pistol which was a few feet away on a velvet chaise lounge she’d added to the decor. Frozen in place, she then looked to the entrance of the room, where the automatic doors shut quietly behind her so-called “guests.”

“Thanks for the show,” came an almost apathetic raspy voice. “Care to indulge us a little longer?”

Humans. And one of them appeared to be a child. Very not great to see a child in here, even if he did appear to be a teenager. The one who had spoken was way old, with disheveled hair and a straight-up lab coat...He carried himself with a deranged poise, leaving Alana to wonder what the fuck could be going on, aside from an invasion of her privacy. He merely stared back at her with half-lidded eyes, taking in her tousled hair, her chubby thighs, skin bright from dancing…

Without answering, Alana's attention then flickered to a large metal cabinet covered in screens and radar, which showed no signs of intruders. 

“Don’t look so surprised, your security system sucks. Let me _urrrp_ guess, you inherited it from the people wh-who used to live here and thought you could just restore it to, uh, to its factory settings?” 

The look on her face said enough. “Classic,” he gloated, making his way towards a small patch of flowering vine plants overflowing from their pots. The man rubbed a bud between his fingers and examined the pollen with a mild amusement. “You got some good shit around here. I guess what they say about this Jude guy is right.” He then sniffed the air and jabbed his thumb at the still smoking bowl. “Damn, is that parallexium? Too bad this trip is business and not pleasure. Maybe I’ll take some home in a doggy bag, ha ha!” 

Alana narrowed her gaze, slowly making her way to a writing desk and flicking open a box full of hand-rolled cigarettes. She lit one quietly, exhaling with a sigh and deciding to let him speak. If she started talking, she might reveal more than was necessary.

“A-alright lady, where’s Jude?” The man punctuated this by a swig from a flask, which he managed without breaking eye contact. 

Alana held her tongue and asked carefully, “Why are you looking for him?”

It seemed like he only answered because he was too impatient to try to play mysterious. “If you mu _ugghh_ st know, I need to get my...my hands on a very potent _chemical_ and this guy is my main ticket to o-obtaining it.”

Were these people actually real? She hadn’t hallucinated them before, as far as she could remember at least. “Okay…” Alana's eyes darted to the person next to him, who watched with nervous curiosity. “Soo you knew what this place was and you brought a kid with you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but this is nothing to him. After all that...all that wild shit we’ve experienced, huh? Th-this is Saturday morning cartoons, right Morty?” 

The child looked from the older man to the stranger, who was staring back at him with a vague concern.

“Rick! Are we here to buy drugs?” The boy blurted in a grating voice which was perfectly the newly-pubescent version of his elder’s. “I-I don’t wanna do this kind of adventure, I thought you said...I thought we were going to save someone!”

“We _are_ , Morty.” Rick replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Jude isn’t interested in conducting business right now.” Alana said smoothly. “Maybe you can schedule a time to meet and discuss this properly, rather than just barging in-”

“L-look why don’t you tell him we know about that thing in his brain _and_ I know how to fix it.” His hand was on his hip and it was almost funny how he appeared so aggravated at this exchange, as if he had expected to be immediately granted everything he demanded.

“Oh?” It was an interesting development. Alana's eyes lit up and she sat down on the edge of her desk, folding her arms and bringing the cigarette to her lips. “Is that so?” 

Rick quizzically watched her Cheshire grin and something began to dawn on him.

“I hope it’s not a tin foil hat.” Alana gestured with the cig as she joked, leaving a trail of smoke near her head. “I already tried that and it didn’t work.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re Jude.” He nearly sounded entertained, also folding his arms as he sized her up once more. 

“Wh-What is going ON?” Morty stamped his foot, clearly feeling left out.

“Alright, al _right_. Ever the audience surrogate eh Morty?” Rick grumbled, annoyed that he would have to do some explaining for someone he’d left completely in the dark.

“I’d actually love to hear this, please go on.” Alana's panic at their arrival rapidly melted away, intrigued to see that this elderly man was more concerned with keeping (what was apparently) his grandson in the loop rather than stealing her shit, or God forbid arresting her. Not to mention he supposedly intended to help her with the gemstone, so a hesitant rush of excitement had bubbled up in her chest at the thought. It was good to have a second to breathe since her mind started racing as soon as it was mentioned.

“So the solution we talked about, re-remember?” This was directed at his companion. “I need a steady supply of top grade thorknazium to make that and he…” Rick paused, then tilted his head mockingly in Alana's direction. “ _She’s_ my best chance at getting my ha- _aagh_ nds on it...discreetly. And instead of paying out the ass for an i-incredibly rare substance in bulk, I’ve offered t-to help remove what is essentially a mind-control device from her brain, likely planted there by some, a crazy ex-boyfriend or something.” Rick waggled his brow at this bit of conjecture. “O- _uggh_ f course this was all gossip through the grapevine so I was u-under the impression that Jude was a dude. When you talk to non-earthlings about earthlings, gender tends to fall..uh get lost in translation.” He shrugged at Alana as if to say _you get it_. 

Morty appeared to be half-listening and had wandered away from his guardian, admiring the various plants and quirky items throughout the room. It was an inviting mix of a classic, golden age picture of a space station plus hippie aesthetics and the bizarre tastes of a human woman who could afford whatever strange cosmic luxuries she might desire. 

Alana shook her head, smiling, and tapped her cigarette in an ashtray shaped like Audrey II from little shop of horrors. “Oh right, and I’m positive your preconception had nothing to do with your coming from a patriarchal society and subconsciously seeking out other life forms with the same biases.” 

Rick scoffed. “Uh-huh..And wh-whe _urgh_ do you come from, that Wonder Woman Isl-that island with all the Amazonian women? T-total matriarchal paradise I’m sure?”

“Listen, gender is a social construct. Just don’t tell the Gazorpians I said so.”

“Hm. Pretty savvy, aren’t you? Hard to believe you’ve got a uh, big rock in your head interfering with your brainwaves.” Without much warning, Rick swiftly approached Alana, honing in on the gem embedded under her skin with one quick movement of his hand. 

She didn’t flinch, taking another drag and blowing smoke right past his face.

“Yep. There it is.” His fingers had promptly woven through her hair and landed on the slightly swollen spot at the base of her skull, where the point of a teardrop shaped gemstone poked out subtly from the skin that had healed around it. It was like a tiny thorn, jutting between vertebrae. “Riiight on the brain stem. Naturally.” Though he seemed to be murmuring to himself, his voice was surprisingly pleasant...Alana shooed this thought away quickly, worrying that it was a symptom of spending so much time alone. “Not a problem. I-It’ll just take some special equipment.”

Stepping back, the man once again took out his flask and swallowed more of what she could be certain was liquor, now that she had experienced his breath.

“So. You really are Jude. Your AI called you Alana. An alter ego, then? Living out a little breaking bad fantasy out here? Well, Jude isn’t a very intimidating name just so you know. I half expected to find some kid who looked like…..”

The two paused and watched Morty, who had approached a column of grates through which thousands of tiny blue mushrooms grew under a UV light. A large cluster of them opened at his presence, sending a puff cloud of spores straight towards his face. 

The boy immediately screamed, which Rick barely even reacted to, continuing to riff. “L-like some kid with buck teeth, y’know? A-A damn prep school dwe- _eeugh_ b, little Rushmore-ass _dweeb_. With all the- y’know a _beret_ a-and...”

Meanwhile Alana rushed over to a small medical cabinet where she kept various antitoxins and salves, cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. The teenager had collapsed onto the Turkish rug now, in a fetal position, wailing incomprehensible gibberish. 

“Don’t barf, don’t barf…” She fumbled with a tiny emergency spray can, punctured it, and spritzed it around Morty’s head. It seemed to provide some relief, as he relaxed in his movements, though he still shuddered and groaned, curled up around himself.

Alana scrubbed her forehead and stood up, watching him sympathetically. “Bad trip. Not much else to do but ride it out. Should be over in a few minutes, buddy.”

Behind her, Rick meandered towards the bowl where an entirely new form of parallexium had just been made. “L-looks like you’ve been up to some pretty nasty stuff, huh Jude? Th-this lex….I haven’t even _seen_ lex like this before.” He was practically licking his lips at the stuff.

“Easy.” Alana warned, finishing her cig and putting it out pointedly. “You already owe me like a grand now that your sidekick has huffed at least three hits of grengis rot.”

“Whaaat?” Rick turned to face Alana, almost knocking the bowl over to her horror. “A-Are you serious, he obviously didn’t m-mean to....alright, how about we wait to talk money until a _agghh_ fter I’ve assembled the materials I’m gonna need to get that thing safely out of your fuckin _grey matter_.” 

Alana felt a squeeze inside her chest, reminded of the fact that this man might be the only person in the universe willing and able to free her from the shackles of mind control which currently dictated her every move in life.

She nodded earnestly, swallowing her pride. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Th-that’s more like it.” He muttered to himself, placing a strange mechanical pyramid in the center of the room and twisting its segments into various configurations, which caused it hum. “While we’re gone, this thing will protect your place, and more importantly, protect this _incredible_ cornucopia of grade A narcotics.” A red light flashed as a brood of robotic spiders flooded from the pyramid, each projecting a grid of lasers which scanned the area. A few crawled into the vents and continued throughout the base, others perched in the corners of the room, beeping softly. “When w-we get done, oooh I’m gonna have such a, such a field day here!” 

She wasn’t sure why she trusted this guy so much and realized it was very possible she was walking into certain death. Maybe it was because she was so sick of living in fear, of not being able to trust her own thoughts. Alana tried to assure herself that if he was trying to trick her, he wouldn’t have acted half this sloppily. Maybe.

“C-come on, Morty. You bought the ticket, is the ride over yet?” While Rick nudged the kid with his shoe, Alana began scrambling for a few personal effects. A pair of reflective sunglasses, her gun…

“Don’t bother, you’re not gonna need all that. We’re j-just going to my garage.” 

Alana paused in the act of slinging a holster around her hips and stared at him in blatant disbelief. Her shades reflected his look of annoyance. “I’m sorry... _garage_ , are you fucking kidding me? This isn’t-” 

Rick had grabbed her wrist and fired a portal gun at her floor. A large puddle that looked like swirling green inter-dimensional gelatin opened up in front of them. 

Morty was standing again, swaying back and forth. “Are w-we going home grandpa?” he asked in an especially pathetic voice. 

“Yes, jeez. You can go, uh get a ginger ale or some crackers or whatever. Grandpa needs to do a qu- _uiiiigh_ ck inventory.” 

With this, he hopped through, Alana right in tow. 


	2. Strawberry Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is psychedelic broh! but y'know I had to justify the name and perspective change, plus shove some backstory in there. the next one will be more of a straightforward adventure promissseee <3

"A-alright, I know you said that stone screwed with- fucked up your memories. I'm g-gonna need you to think back to as far as uh, as far as you can."

As he spoke, the scientist unceremoniously placed a janky looking helmet over your head which totally obscured your vision. What felt like a bunch of icy cold tendrils tangled their way around your skull, their suckers latching on to various nerve centers as they emitted an unsettling hiss sound.

At your side, Rick clicked a few switches and then turned up a humming dial, causing a sensation that could only be described as your soul or consciousness (or whatever it could be) getting sucked upwards through and past your own head.

You had done enough drugs to handle a body high, but this feeling was so strong and surreal that it took a second to recover.

_Where am I?_ you eventually wondered, still in a daze, your hands on your knees as you took a few soothing breaths.

"My subterranean lair. Underneath a garage." Rick's gravelly voice seemed far away. You could almost make out the sound of......was that minecraft? "But this machine a-allows you to explore your...your subconscious as if it's a physical space. So it feels like...whatever that would feel like. For you."

He belched and added, almost as an afterthought: "Sooo if your memories are as fragmented as they sound, you may see some pretty psychedelic shit. Just uh, try to-try to stay in there as long as possible. The more shit you interact with, the more accurate results we'll get."

Shapes gradually began to form from the amorphous swirl of colors you'd first been surrounded by. You were in the middle of a dark forest. Or at least that was what your mind was projecting. 

"What are you seeing, Alana?" He blurted impatiently.

_That's not.....actually my name._ You thought to yourself, turning around and watching the scene manifest around you. _Or at least I don't think it is...._

"Okaaay....Th-Then where did Alana come from?" 

Back in the garage, he noticed you gripping the arms of the chair you were strapped into.

"J-Just let it come to you." He advised, before looking back at his computer screen, which had two separate windows open. One included the readings he was getting from this arcane assessment you were being put through, the other was a castle he was building out of blocks. "If you try too hard to force it, w-we get bad data."

Eventually the hazy version of a mundane image surfaced in front of you, amongst a collection of seashells glowing in the bed of a swamp.

It was a version of yourself you almost didn't recognize, with a woman a little taller than you. You were in what seemed to be a record store, both giggling... _We're happy, it's her birthday....She's....._ You reach down to touch the murky water, as if you might be able to push away some of the sediment obscuring the picture.

"Hm. Who's there with you?" There seemed to be a touch of smugness in his tone. "Is she hot?"

Suddenly, circling around you in that nebulous space, a multitude of bulbous grey flowers bloomed from the wet ground and opened menacingly, dripping poison and throbbing with bright red light. The memory of the record store disappeared and you backed up against a tree to avoid the toxic slime these things were spitting. They looked like a thousand corpse's mouths, reaching for you from every direction.

  
_Shut the fuck up!_ You thought at Rick, furious and scared and confused, clenching your fists at your sides. _You know what,_ _I'm tired of men having total, unrestricted access to my mind. I'm sick of people sticking their grubby little fingers in my memories and altering my own understanding of myself!_

"Don't be dramat-...melodramatic." Rick draped an arm over the back of his seat, clicking away at his game with his free hand. His voice echoed through your forest. "I'm trying to distinguish between frequencies. This little test will help me detect the difference between your own thoughts, y-your own organic memories o-o-or whatever's left of em.....versus the frequencies from the stone that your uh 'friend' installed to inhibit and manipulate your personal neural activity." He rolled his eyes at the striking lack of gratitude. "So yeah, I'm actually trying to help you reclaim authority over your own mind. But go off, I guess." 

_Fine. Sorry._ Was all you managed to give him, turning around and slipping past the tree to escape the vicious plants, stumbling deeper into the forest. _Things got scary in here for a second...a bunch of flowers came alive and tried to...bite me or something I guess so I freaked out._

"Oh yeah? I wonder uh....It might be your own brain trying to protect you from something. Not like I'm a psycholo-I'm not exactly a therapist over here or anything." 

_Shocking_. You thought with a weak laugh, discovering a trail and trying to follow it, guided by the faint yellow moonlight that filtered through the leaves overhead.

"Alright. So what the hell do I call you, let's start with that. Because so far y-you're apparently both Alana _and_ Jude and also _neither_ and it's too m-much to keep up with."

It was a fair point. Who were you, really? Before those aliases? Squinting, you found yourself in a scrubby field of vegetation, where a pronounced hole in the ground caught your eye. After sitting at the edge, you stared, waiting for an answer. A few minutes passed without anything happening, so you closed your eyes and inhaled, passively letting your mind wander deeper into those monikers and their origins. Exhale.

As you did, a red fox emerged smoothly from the hole and curled up next to you.

" **Jude.** The patron saint of lost things and lost causes." The fox spoke to you in your own voice. 

_This was the name you had given yourself._

After the trauma of waking up with most of your memories scrambled and a crystal in the back of your head, you found power in a new alias. You told people to call you Jude...To escape the Federation and throw the man who had done this to you off your trail.

A bell rang. The fox opened its mouth, and a skeleton emerged from it, which rapidly grew back its tendons and muscle and fur. A rabbit.

The rabbit looked at you, sitting next to the fox and speaking in a more robotic tone.

" **Alana.** " Its whiskers twitched as it tilted its head. "A bloody mask. An easy cover. A splinter in your selves."

_This was the name the AI had given you._

You had stowed away on a space craft when you left your home planet for the first time and, in a mix of fear and rage, killed its entire crew. Hoping to avoid the repercussions of galactic law, you told their ship's AI to call you something else when it addressed you as the new captain- any random human name it could generate in that moment would do. Anything but your own.

It scanned the news from nearby planets for humans who had recently disappeared, presumed dead, and gave you Alana. Your past life was buried and the bodies were pushed out of the airlock, floating into the distance until you could no longer picture their faces....But why had you been so mad at them? How had you known about their ship?

Another bell rang. The rabbit's mouth opened and a handful of tiny seeds emerged, floating in front of you. Shivering, they became melded together with sweet, red flesh, conjured from nothingness. A strawberry. 

After a small hesitation, you reached out and plucked it from the air, eating it in one bite.

**"...(y/n)"** The forest itself spoke. "An innocent. Unsuspecting. Malleable as soft clay."

_This was the name your mother had given you. Back when you lived on Earth._

  
"H-holy shit!" Rick blurted, leaning forward in his seat. "There was just a huge spike in the-the readings...What did you-"

_My name is (y/n)._ You thought calmly, lying back on the ground. A cloud of white butterflies appeared in the air with a shimmer and swirled around you. 

"Got it. (y/n) is canon from now on. Sounds like a big breakthrough, c-congrats." He spoke hastily. "That means I can now say '(y/n), someone off-planet is agghhccessing the stone.' I'm picking up a signal I don't recognize....Get ready f-for...I dunno, something freaked up!"

While Rick spoke, a crack began to spiderweb through the forest floor as if the earth itself would split apart. An unholy howl shot up from underneath you.

"Alanaaaa, babyyyyy~!"

Your blood turned cold.

  
It emerged from the gaping fault lines as a haunting silhouette, a monster standing about seven feet tall with jagged antlers and a hunched, wolfish body. Throughout its face and chest, bones jutted out of taut, dust-colored flesh. It was an absolute horror and smelled of decay. When it smirked, it looked exactly like Leone. 

"I hadn't heard from you in so long!" He cried in a harrowing voice, reaching for you with sinewy, clawed fingers. You managed to jump just out of his touch but the ground felt sticky and thick as mud. Just like in a nightmare. "But out of nowhere, my radar just lit up! Like a little power surge and I thought, why don't I send her a message!"

All you cold do was cower, clenching your hands around your face, trying unsuccessfully to steady your mind. _It's not real, it's not real!_

"This paarrghhrt is actually kind of real." 

  
Whipping around, you saw Rick racing towards you. He looked normal, which (you were interested to find) was an immense relief. As you stood stammering, he yanked you behind a few sturdy trees, which buckled behind you at the impact of Leone's antlers when he head-butted into them with full force. 

  
"Run!" Rick gripped your wrist and tried to take off but found that his feet also stuck to the ground and it was impeding his getaway. "Augh!" Leaning around one of the trees, Rick fired some kind of freeze ray at the windigo version of your ex, who wavered, stuck in place mid-charge before he could ram the tree once more.

"Wh-what is this, some kind of freeze ray?" Rick muttered sharply, eying the strange gun, then you.

"Why are you asking me?" You demanded, heart pounding, desperately searching for a promising escape route.

He rolled his eyes and gripped your shoulders. "W-We're deep down in your brain (y/n), remember! Everything here is generated by you!" Rick placed his hands on his own head then gestured wildly. "E-except for you know, our individual consciousnesses. We're like radio waves your intuitive mind gives form!"

As this strange fact dawned on you, you looked down at the melting forest floor with a new understanding.

"Y-yes, you're catching _uugghh_ p with me then. Good." 

"So who's watching our bodies??"

"D-Don't worried, I've got it covered."

* * *

"I know right?" Summer drawled, taking a picture of your twitching form and texting her friend. Sitting on a shelf in the garage, she swung her feet lazily back and forth as she brought the phone back up to her ear. "Grandpa never brings anyone cool over, what do you think her deal is? She looks like she goes clubbing! I totally know where to get some fake IDs..."

"Summer...What in the world is going on here? Who is that?"

Annoyed, Beth's daughter set her phone at her side long enough to respond. "Grandpa said he'd be right back and not to disturb either of them!"

"Huh. Not a big fan of those short shorts." Beth grumbled, praying her father wasn't doing anything untoward in the family garage as she went and retrieved a blanket to throw over your lap.

* * *

"Why can't they just pull us out of here?!" You demanded of Rick, who was throwing all sorts of things out of his pockets. A potted cactus, a polaroid camera, a rubber dildo, a handful of ladybugs...

"It's not that easy," he huffed, tossing each item to the ground, which immediately sucked them underneath the dirt like extra permeable quicksand. "That stone created l-like an open wound, on every level of your being. It's a mineral conduit that requires raw, unfettered access to your central nervous system, your psyche, the whole shebang. One wrong move, any one of our identities could be split. Part of _his_ mind could get trapped here. _You_ could be paralyzed. Metaphysical, physical...We're playing with too many fields of existence for an emergency evacuation!"

The older man kept rummaging through his lab coat and groaned. "C-Cmon, (y/n)...Is this really what you think I would have in my pockets?! Gimme something here, c-concentrate!"

The freeze gun's effect was beginning to wear off on Leone, because deep down, you knew it had to.

"Well you help me, Rick! What do we actually need to-" "You know him be _egghh_ tter than I do! Just g-give me something, anything that will make this asshole _choose_ to leave!" 

A few seconds passed and something occurred to you, in the form of a giddy warmth that spontaneously bloomed throughout your chest.... _Wait really? Could that possibly work? Had you finally fucking snapped?_ The ground beneath you was solid and dry again, which indicated that you should follow this line of thinking as quickly as possible.

"What're you...." Rick looked down at himself, baffled. "A....A fucking.....suit?" 

In your simmering gaze, Rick's form rapidly shifted into a dapper version of himself, now wearing a form-fitting suit and oxfords. In an instant his spittle was wiped away, he donned a flattering new haircut and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. A devilish smirk began to grow across his face as he watched his outfit adjust itself while you drew closer. His clothes grew slightly more disheveled as you stared- part of his shirt untucked itself, his tie loosened, a touch of saliva returned to the corner of his mouth...

The completely dismaying sound of this beast, this archetypal representation of your vicious ex-boyfriend whining into the night was almost enough to distract you from the kiss. Almost.

As soon as Rick caught on (which was fast), he stepped forward to meet your lips with his own, winding his arms hungrily around your body. The sound of Leone grew fainter and fainter as you got lost in the back-and-forth of the surprisingly fiery exchange. It was only when Rick had pushed you up against a tree, pressing himself against you and grazing your bottom lip with his teeth that you realized hazily that Leone was gone. 

It took way too much deliberation with yourself to weakly tap his shoulder. At first he didn't acknowledge the signal, working his way feverishly towards your neck, until you blurted his name with an edge that finally made him pause. Flushed, he held his face close to yours for what felt like eternity, then stepped back with a pompous grin. "P-Pretty intriguing how fast your mind went there, _(y/n),"_ His voice was husky and you suddenly felt like you needed to sit down.

"...He's always been the jealous type." you croaked, settling into the now lush, green grass and gesturing to where Leone's chimerical personification once stood. "Thought he was hot shit but totally unraveled if I even looked at another guy.....And yet he was worthless in bed, never even made me...y'know." Why were you telling him all this?

Rick snickered, subtly catching his own breath and slipping his hands into his pockets with a certain sophisticated flair. He wore the suit well. You wondered if he would be mature about this. And then, abruptly, he called out into what had now become a sweet, gentle meadow. "Mirror please!"

The mere suggestion was enough; even though you were resting your chin in your hand and staring into space, it popped up right in front of him. "Ha ha, wow so this is a n-nice twist, isn't it?" He gloated at his own reflection, before giving you the side-eye. "You even gave me a little scruff! S-so you like guys with..who have glasses, huh (y/n)? D-does that mean you have an intelligence kink?" The way you rubbed your forehead, still blushing hard, seemed to give him more fuel. "Ooh yep, a _sapiosexual_ are we? I know the type. Can't say I blame you-"

"Please, for the love of-Just get us out of here now......" You muttered, despite feeling partially amused at the way he teased. He crouched down in front of you and tilted your chin up with his slender finger. "Y-You sure you don't wanna stay- stick around a little longer in your fantasy realm? Aaaanything could happen in here!" You looked up with a glazed expression and he chuckled filthily. 

"Grandpa! Mom said you have to wake up! She said we're having guests and she doesn't want them to see you in here doing weird stuff!"

What sounded like a teenage girl's shouts reached the two of you like it had been played from stadium speakers about a mile away. Still, you both got the gist of it.

"Guess we'll just have to finish this another time." Rick mumbled as he pushed his lithe form from the ground. "C-Can you generate an inter-dimensional cell phone....that is, if your minds not too cloudy from my _sweet caresses_ -" Before he could finish, a pile of phones were showered down upon him. "Thanks doll," he winked at you before dialing a quick sequence of numbers like it was second nature.

You could hear Summer's voice in the distance and Rick rattling off a few commands to her from his end. The last thing you remembered before waking up in the garage were a fox and a rabbit, vanishing into a field of strawberry bushes.


	3. Chillhop Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one has it all! well, some of it! jokes, fluff, and family time!
> 
> I wondered if anyone had done the gimmick at the end since there's that adultswim video of all the characters enjoying lofi hip hop. Hope it paid off, it was a plot bunny for a while.

"Seeya on the other side."

You had been watching Rick a few yards away from your spot on the forest floor. He was still clad in the fitted suit you had summoned for him, just tousled enough to be suggestive, wandering around and gesturing wildly with his free hand as he spoke. 

His phone conversation with someone named Summer provided a chance to take account of everything that had just transpired.

Closing your eyes, you felt a quilt generate around you, and you held it close to yourself as you tried to set everything in place. 

You had recovered your birth name, a name you hadn't used in years, one that had been further buried by the effects of the crystal. Then that bastard Leone, who had paid to have the crystal installed, showed up in the (appropriate) form of a monster. He often used the gem to track your location, plant false memories, manipulate you from afar...This time, in your vulnerable subconscious, his presence had been personified in a way that almost felt physical. The implications of this were both confusing and scary...

And then, at the apex of this roller coaster ride, you'd seduced an old man, who happened to reciprocate eagerly.

When Rick spoke now you barely registered what he said, watching him flash two peace signs with a lazy grin before flickering out of existence.

The feeling of the bizarre device being deactivated was just as baffling as having it applied to your head in the first place. The nature scene still felt substantial to you, even if you had technically imagined it, so it was extremely jarring when it disappeared with a startling speed, vanishing into one central point as if it this liquid reality had been sucked through a single drain in its center.

You felt simultaneously bodiless and suspended, then rapidly launched through space and crashed into what felt like a wall of psychic energy, a membrane which you split through into a totally new setting, which was much more harsh and solid than the one you had just occupied.

Recovering from this shock in the fluorescent light of a garage, you heard yourself groaning indistinctly. Your vision gradually focused as you lifted your heavy limbs, numbly patting under your arms, around your chest, then recovering your laser pistol from your hip. It was mostly a gesture driven by habit and the return to an unfamiliar environment after such intense disassociation. 

You couldn't sit up all the way because the chair's metal harness was constricted around your torso but you still managed to point your gun at the first person you saw- a middle-aged brunette man who tossed his arms up in the air and cowered.

The sound of the weapon whining as it activated provided an interruption to the chaotic conversation that had been going on beforehand. You weren't sure what these people had been talking about but now they all stared at you. Then they turned to Rick, who was out of his chair and checking on his Minecraft game. 

  
"Dad! I told you we are having people over tonight! You seriously picked _the_ _worst_ time to invite over one of your alien....hussies." 

"Thought you said it was a party." Rick shrugged, failing to refute either of these things you had just been called by his apparent daughter as he turned to face his family, sipping from his flask. He looked down at your weapon, unfazed.

"Don't bother. H-he's not worth the time it would take to pull the trigger." You hesitated, but the man appeared so hurt by the comment that it proved Rick's point. As you returned the gun to its holster, he clicked a few buttons on the back of your chair, which released you from its mechanical clutches. Returning to your feet, you felt the eyes of these strangers on you, while Rick began to busy himself digging through a random crate he'd pulled out from a cabinet. There was a redheaded teenager, who looked mildly interested in the situation, the blonde, established as Rick's daughter, and a coward, likely her husband.

"Yeah it's a party for _Jerry_ , dad. Not you." The blond gestured to the man at her side who was now wringing his hands.

"Now Beth," Jerry's voice was so broken down, it sounded like he already anticipated a complete rejection of whatever he was about to offer. "Maybe it would be _cool_ if we y'know, had a funky alien lady hanging out around here? Everybody would be so impressed!"

"You're just saying that because she's dressed like a hooker." The vitriol in Beth's voice was intense, snapping so quickly at her spouse it seemed like second-nature.

"What.... _year_ is it on this planet?" You asked suddenly in an affected, overly formal voice, looking around with an expression of wide-eyed bewilderment. Jerry stuttered the answer. 

"Oh. Interesting. I just assumed that by then the people of earth wouldn't be so _regressive_ in their views of women's bodies." 

The teenager cackled, shrugging at her mother's glare. "She got you, Mom."

Beth had been momentarily shocked but quickly planted her hands on her hips, directing her rage towards you. "Lady, you're in _my_ house! Kindly get the hell out before-" She was interrupted by the doorbell. "Shit! Summer, go get that! We'll be out in a minute!"

"Sorry sweetie. I-if I have to stay for this crap, she sta _aghh_ ys too." While he spoke, Rick produced a handful of materials and tools from different areas in the garage, his tinkering hardly affecting the aloof tone of his voice as he began combining these things on the counter, his back to the three of you. "If you think I'm just gonna hang out while a bunch of creep- a gaggle of suburban _dorks_ celebrate your sperm donor's new job, y-y'know essentially accomplishing the _bare minimum_ by being hired for a position most people his age would be _over_ -qualified for...Y-You might need to re-evaluate your expectations of what I _ughh_ consider worth celebrating."

"Oh my GOD, not right now with this _please_." Beth seemed like trying to keep her composure was taking every ounce of her strength. "If we can't just be normal and supportive for one night, let's just _pretend_ for our guests. Alright? That way Jerry can KEEP this job and you can ultimately see _less_ of him. Everybody wins!"

"Glad that we could find a silver lining in all of this..." Jerry muttered, pouting bitterly. "Can it, Jerry!" "Wh-What d'you want _Jerry_ , a ballo _oogh_ n? Huh??"

Since the conversation had shifted from the topic of your presence, you flicked your arm so that the sleeve of your leopard print coat rode up a bit and exposed your sleek, heart-shaped watch. It was your preferred method for communicating with the many parties you interacted with in the day-to-day work of interplanetary drug trade and related enterprises. In regards to information, the gadget was fully loaded with the sort of juicy exchanges that some lackey from the Federation could easily earn his retirement and legacy on. Naturally it was encrypted, although you were a bit cagey about pulling it up even around these normies, wandering to a corner of the garage to let it scan your face before granting you access. 

"Fuuuuck..." You whispered when, in shades of blue and purple light, the hologram projected several messages from colleagues and a few customers important enough to have access to your main line. You apparently didn't have to leave your base for very long before people started blowing up your phone. As you perused, Beth and Jerry begrudgingly exited to entertain after coming to a stalemate with Rick, though you hardly acknowledged their leaving, consumed by the panicked texts you were scrolling through. 

_Shipment still expected tomorrow? We still haven't gotten the coordinates, send soon or the deal's off._

_Waiting for the OK, boss. We just found one of Le*ne's goons screwing around at a drop point. We're ready to take care of him, just say the word._

_Alana, where tf are you? I just showed up and almost got blasted by a robotic spider. Do you have the lex or what??_

"That...is such...an _aesthetic..._!"

You realized that the teenager Summer had returned from answering the door to admire your accessory and the electronic image that hovered in front of you.

Smirking, you clicked the side of the watch, which caused a 3D animation of cloud seals from Flarbellon-7 floating happily in circles to replace your incriminating inbox. "Thanks, it's Gucci. Well...Modified, obviously. From a little shop in the Jekblex Sector of Theta-9. Ever been to the plantabulon region?" 

"Not yet, but I'm soooo into it."

"Summer why don't you go check on your brother? Pret-pretty sure he just spent an eteu _urghh_ nity getting his skin peeled off in a Salvador Dali painting o-or something." He gazed over his shoulder, a small tool in his hands which fizzed with electricity. "H-He could probably use some water or....whatever. Juice or whatever." 

Summer looked as if she were about to protest until Rick blatantly told her to "Scram."

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, stomping out of the garage and shutting the door behind her with a _hmpf_. 

"Heheh, n-now they'll really think you're an alien." 

From behind you, Rick planted something around your head which felt coldly metallic but lightweight.

You squinted at him with an irritated look, reaching up to touch it before he swatted your hand away. 

"I didn't agree to be dragged into your domestic bullshit," You said plainly.

"Right, and I'm sure droves of qualified, trustworthy, experienced scientists are just lining up at your door with offers to help with your little jewelry problem, to j-just dig around in there and get that thing out, with all your memories and nerve endings in tact, right?" At this you withered. He had a point.

"If, in this case, the biggest sacrifice you have to make is spending an evening at an excessively mundane 'congratulations you're employed' party for my pathetic son-in-law, i-in exchange for liberation from literal _mind-control_.....I dunno. Seems like you should go with it." He punctuated this with a few gulps from his flask.

He was convincing, but you had learned to be suspicious and had to press back a little longer, despite feeling completely exhausted. "...At this point, I'm not one hundred percent convinced you're qualified _or_ trustworthy. You barely even introduced yourself and suddenly we're....we're on earth and you're in my fuckin' brain? And then I'm in the middle of Monday night sitcom family drama?"

"Oh, I'm sorry-" he stuttered on your name as he emphasized it, "did...did I not just facilitate a huge mental revelation for you a-and use your time dicking around in that creepy Twin Peaks fuckin brain of yours to collect an effective and _accurate_ batch of neural oscillations? And d-do you think that maybe those will be used to, I dunno, curate a set of tools and shit that will allow me to do the thing I said I could do?"

You groaned at this defensive verbal barrage, flopping into the chair you had previously been strapped to and rubbing your forehead in impotent frustration, grazing the surface of whatever weird headband he'd plopped over your hair. 

Rick sighed almost sympathetically, placing a hand on the back of the chair. "You should know of all people that these things are never simple. Fixing a mess like this-" He brushed his hand against the tender spot at the base of your skull. "-is gonna be inherently messy, no matter how you slice it. This so _orghhr_ t of implant....I-It's petty. It's invasive. And it's illegal as shit. So re-re-reverse engineering it is going to be all that and more." Here Rick shrugged, his eye twitching a bit at the sound of laughter from inside the house.

"Anyways, if you want a proper introduction...." His voice took on an ironic tinge. "....what better way to get to know me than a night with my family."

Frowning, you fished through one of your coat's pockets for a trusty marbled case which you had stuffed with fat little joints for moments like this. The way that the phrase "my family" came from his mouth, you might have thought it was dipped in poison. 

"Fine," You grumbled, pulling out a joint and slipping the case back into your coat. It occurred to you that you had already resigned yourself to putting your faith in this man's hands. After all, you'd jumped at the chance to put the rest of yourself in his hands the second things got ugly.

"Got a light?"

"OH thank god," Rick hissed, eagerly pinching his outreached hand at you. "Give it here."

Naturally he lit it with a mini blowtorch.

* * *

"Ever heard of an out of office....y'know _auughh_ tomatic reply?" He asked, sounding much more relaxed now. Rick was sprawled on the chair next to you, so slumped back his lanky arms almost reached the floor. As you went through each message you'd received, typing out answers on a holographic keyboard into several split tabs of activity, he observed the way the lights projected from that Totally Spies lookin-ass-watch over your stoned grimace of concentration. Glancing up through the pastel glow made hazy by collecting smoke, you quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, plucking the joint from your mouth and ashing it in a little earthenware tray. 

Rick gestured to your digital escritoire, his hand phasing through the corner of a calendar reminder. "Y-You actually.....It isn't especially wise to be walking around with- y'know all this information at the forefront of your brain while that stone has you so, well....compromised. Thaaaank you!" Greedily, he accepted the third of a joint you had left between you. "I'm just sayin'. Don't you have like a second-in-command who can take over for a few days?"

Watching him revel in this strain of weed which you had bred yourself, you shrugged. "I've tried to avoid that." 

This earned a respectful chuckle. "I appreciate the sentiment. But you should consider a sidekick. They can be very useful."

Carefully pinching the roach towards your pursed lips, you nodded then exhaled what was left. "Yeah I have someone in mind. One sec." After grinding what was left into the ashtray, you hammered out a quick note to Sammy, who had nervously made his way into your base after Rick rattled off some quick advice on disarming his robo-spider security fleet. Then you proceeded to swiftly give him access to a few important documents and databases.

"I mean what's the worst that could happen," Rick swirled his hands in the air as he riffed. "a-a couple kids at a music festival end up buying some less than qua _augh_ lity shit because your stuff's not available and what, get the shakes for the night, maybe vomit their brains out...Y'know sometimes it's good to have experiences like that. Good for your constitution and sense of self. Reminds you of your mortality. It can't a-all be dance parties and blacklight orgies...Right Morty?"

Twisting around, you saw that Morty was peeking through the doorway as you both spoke and instinctively put your watch on sleep mode, which displayed an analogue clock.

"S-sorry it's just.....They told me to come downstairs for the party but everyone's drunk and they're talking about their favorite funny youtube clips. A-and I don't want to...play cards with them....And...I dunno, Summer said maybe we could rent a movie...." He was digging the toe of his sneaker into the floor. You could sense a hoarseness to his voice- often a symptom of the drug he had accidentally consumed earlier in the night.

"Yeah, yeah. We're coming." Rick responded, pushing himself up from his ragdoll position. Morty almost appeared surprised at his grandfather's pliancy, in spite of the thick skunky cloud which had obviously filled the garage. Rick locked eyes with you on his way to Morty and tilted his head towards the door.

Making sure the boy was out of earshot, you spoke under your breath to Rick, who watched you from the corner of your eye as you joined his side. "He just experienced one of the highest doses of G-Rot I've ever seen ingested _on your watch_ and now he's asking you to watch TV with him. Real interesting family situation you've got going, Rick."

"You're high." he murmured dismissively, passing through the doorway and gesturing for you to follow.

"You too." You chirped, entering into the foreign home, convinced that you must smell absolutely dank.

He shut the light off behind you and closed the door, creating a finality to this transition that really began to sink in when the shouting grew louder. 

* * *

"Okay, okay!" Jerry cried with a cheesy smile. "Now have y'all ever seen the reddit called Hold My Beer??"

This was met with a variety of raucous replies, including Beth's boozy chuckles.

"You _gotta_ get a load of this!" Clearly emboldened by alcohol and drunken encouragement, Jerry was scrolling eagerly through his phone.

They had pushed two tables together in the dining room for several milquetoast looking folks to gather around amongst a goofy looking card game and a variety of spirits. It was no wonder that Morty wasn't interested in joining, whether or not he had experienced spiritually devastating existential horror earlier in the evening. The three of you tried to pass by unnoticed but that would have been too easy.

"Oh look! And this is Rick, Beth's dad. He lives with us..." Jerry trailed off flatly, throwing a look to Beth. "And his....friend." His mood changed back to pure silliness after a brief frown, leaning forward and talking in a conspiratorial tone to those seated around him as if no one else could hear him practically shouting. "Doesn't she look like she's from one of those Fast and the Furious movies? Hahaha! Uhhh ok, Tokyo drift called, they want their whole 'thing' back! Hahahaha, and look she has a tiara now. Umm, consistency in genre please? Maybe it has to do with how stoned you both smell! Yep, we can smell it. Heh, hope you didn't give any drugs to my son. Heheheh, oh gosh. Did you know she has a gun? Oh, don't worry! It's.....She won't use it. Uhhhh, I was joking." Beth was watching him with the sort of fondness a cat might have for its prey, sipping on wine and watching it unfold with her chin in her hand. 

Rick held up a hand in acknowledgement. "They're called _sub_ reddits, Jerry. And they all suck." After this proclamation, he continued into the room with a television without waiting for a response, tugging you along after him. 

However after being reminded of the headband you had been granted, you took care to stop at a mirror in the hallway. Rick watched impatiently, still gripping your wrist.

It looked like a simple circlet, mechanized and humming with some sort of faint current of energy. A few small stones you didn't recognize were woven through the curled pattern of circuitry. "They partially negate the field of.....If y-you think of your implant as a receiver, these me _ughh_ tals are configured to create white noise...It sh-should help."

"I look like a space princess." You laughed, allowing yourself to be pulled along and deposited on the sofa. 

"I've met space princesses and...nah dawg. You look like you're about to go LARP with a bunch of geeks dressed in pillow cases a-a-and trash bags. Y-You look like you're about to let some virgin try to, try and finger you in his dad's car, i-in the Game Stop parking lot."

You couldn't help but laugh along with him as he messed with the TV to set it up for a movie, shaking your head and glancing at Morty when he hopped up on the other end of the couch. You gave an innocent thumbs up and he gave one back after a pause, smiling weakly. 

"Morty, you were the most traumatized today so you get to pick the movie." Rick flipped off the living room light, then plopped down between the two of you and stretched out his long legs on the coffee table.

Summer's silhouette obscured the light pouring in from the doorway, which she leaned in with her arms crossed. "Oh cool, we're watching a movie?" She sounded equally eager to distract herself from the corniness of her parents' so-called "party." 

"Only if you bring us snacks, Summer," came Rick's sly response.

* * *

Morty had picked some action comedy film and it seemed to relax him thoroughly, to the extent that he kept drifting off to sleep, before startling back awake and telling an annoyed Summer to rewind it.

Rick was surprisingly quiet, until Summer decided to go up to her room and Morty completely dozed off.

You had been feeling sleepy yourself, but a nudge at your side brought you back.

"So. Are you in the habit of making out with old men or was that an anomaly?" Rick sounded mischievous, his voice a gruff whisper. 

How to approach this? You were a little too tired to play along, but there was an undeniable adrenaline rush you got from remembering your brief but heated exchange.

"It was a tactic." You said breezily. "We were in my id, after all. What do you expect?"

Rolling his eyes, Rick made a psshh sound. "Y-Your id? Right...Not how it works, dude. Plus, you could have imagined me as anyone, and yet all you did w-was dress me up l-like your fancy little call boy..." With a shrug, he spoke in an almost teasing sing-song voice. "But wh-whatever you need to tell yourself to feel- to justify your insatiable lust for me...."

That did it. You had to call his bluff. 

"Even if I was horny for you. You really think you could satiate _me_ , old-timer? Please."

"Say please again and I'm taking you upstairs." 

Nothing had changed about Rick's outward composure, in fact he was simply staring at the television. But you felt your blood drawn to the surface immediately, your face flushing in the dark, heat rising in your lap.

You only breathed again when Morty made a sound in his sleep, before starting to violently kick and writhe around at the other end of the sofa. Nightmares were typical for a few days after a G-Rot trip.

The poor kid was starting to wail, almost falling off the furniture until Rick shook him awake.

"M-Morty, i-it's just a dream! Wh-why don't you go to your room a-a-and try to get a good night's sleep. Y-Y'know, drink some chamomile tea, Morty." 

The gentleness in his voice was excruciatingly adorable, despite the deliberate ignorance of his statement. Chamomile would do little to stave off the after effects of those particular fungi spores and you were sure he knew that.

Morty whined in response. "I don't really want to be alone, Rick..." You could see a sheen of sweat on him in the light cast by the TV.

"Don't you have something for him?" You asked his grandpa from Rick's other side, tugging on his labcoat's sleeve. "I might be able to, if you teleported me back to my base I could grab-"

At the thought of doing the work of creating a portal for you to use, Rick miraculously remembered something relevant. 

"A _agghh_ ctually....I might have something to do the trick."

* * *

"It's the lofi beats to relax and or study to disco ball!!" Rick announced in a stage whisper when he returned to the room, holding an ominous sphere over his head with one hand that looked very little like a disco ball. In his other hand, he carried a steaming coffee mug.

"Wh-what's it do, Rick?" Morty asked feebly, clearly desperate for a straightforward solution.

"I've actually used this before, Morty, while you were around! I think you'll find its effects familiarly soothing...and soothingly familiar, lol!" Rick was now proudly preparing the gadget for use, adjusting some settings into a panel that shot out from its side after a series of indiscernable button smashing.

"T-Time passes by normally, but this creates the effect of being in a loop. Y-you capture a moment that feels particularly calming and live in it for a-a-any window of time. And i-it enhances your perception of it, makes it feel warm and soft and...kinda pixely." He captured your eye for a second and you tried to surpress a shiver.

"The best part is, we don't have to initiate it manually. I-It'll pinpoint the proper moment to repeat, based on our serotonin levels and well other factors like that, in our brains Morty! Our brain chemicals!" 

"It doesn't go _in_ our brains, right Rick..." There was a certain defeat in his voice that implied he was ready to be told otherwise.

"No!" Rick remained cheerful, flicking a switch on the orb. The thing spun slowly and rapidly made the room feel more....safe....calm....cozy.... "I-I-It just shoots a beam at us, Morty! Classic beam technology! Non-invasive!" He then brought down his energy a tad, instructing the both of you. "J-Just settle in and chill, I promise." 

The two of you listened acutely, cuddling into the sofa and turning towards the TV. Rick regarded you both with a lopsided smile of approval before slipping onto the middle cushion, resting an arm around Morty, who had pulled a heavy blanket over himself, just barely peeking over. He also made sure to nestle close to you, giving an inviting wink as you rubbed your eyes.

The rest of the night was like that.

Your head on Rick's shoulder, getting the first good rest you'd experienced in months. Occasionally you would open your eyes halfway, look around, see that he was serenely watching late night TV and then rest your heavy head on him once more, leaned shamelessly against his side. 

Rick's moment was turning to yours and then his grandson's sleeping forms and smiling subtly to himself before his expression grew more neutral. He'd bring his flask to his mouth, swallow, watch absentmindedly. Then his head would lower towards his chest and he'd snore for a few beats.

On the other end, Morty was curled up tightly, arm dangling off the edge as he drooled. The intermittent bad dream would shake him awake, but then he'd reach across to the table to grab the tea his grandfather had made for him, take a sip, and then drape Rick's arm back over himself before pressing his face into a throw pillow and drifting to sleep once more. 

Even Beth got captured in it, sometimes tiptoeing drunkenly into the room and patting Morty's head, kissing her father's cheek, looking at you quizzically, then perching next to you to watch TV for a bit and sip her drink before leaving again.

All the while underneath, the sound of a mellow piano played, generated randomly by this whimsical invention, glitchy and remixed to flow at a bright but reassuring pace. An occasional languid guitar came in, or a funky synthesizer. An endless groove.


	4. Nangs (Pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Lots of exposition in this one. Hope it's not too much. More action in Part Two! 
> 
> These two parts are named after the Tame Impala song with only one line: "But is there something more than that?" because this one is full of questions, answers, and more questions. 
> 
> Oh PS I'm terrible at science so forgive all the contradictions and nonsense in my attempts at faking it....
> 
> (a bit of mild smut at the end....but it's a tease :P)

You weren’t sure what you expected to see when you opened the door after a series of loud, chaotic knocks, but it wasn’t Rick dressed like a member of a fucking yacht club. 

After splashing water on your face in the bathroom sink, you had resolved to let him know you would be going back to your base. It didn’t feel right letting someone else run your multitude of enterprises, even if it was a friend who you trusted for the most part and knew was probably capable...If Rick needed to go collect the tools he needed to perform your reversal surgery, he was free to do it, but you weren’t going with, and you certainly weren’t sticking around here with his daughter and son-in-law who were clearly a mess between themselves.

However your carefully prepared words tumbled away as soon as you found yourself staring up at the formidable sight of Rick in this strange outfit. Grinning slyly down at you, he donned a cream-colored cable knit turtleneck which clung to his thin frame, cropped grey trousers that ended above his ankles and a handsome pair of leather brogues. He was watching you carefully and seemed well-satisfied with your expression.

Before you could speak, he leaned in to shove an armful of clothing towards you, lingering to murmur, “Thought you’d like it...” before straightening up and looking pleased with himself. 

“Rick, it’s like seven in the morning what-” 

“It’s seven fifteen which means we’re _late_. Why aren’t you changing?” His tone changed quickly from breathy and amused to blatantly impatient. Considering you were standing in the hallway with him staring at you, the answer should have been obvious, but the gleam in his eye said otherwise.

“What the hell are we-” “I-I’ll tell you on the way! Did I not just say we were late (y/n)? We’ve got a client waiting on us right now. And I thought you u-understood good business, _Jude_ -” “Easy,” you scolded at his use of your moniker, waving a hand for him to hush as you clutched the clothing bundle with your other arm. 

He looked like he was prepared to start in on you again so you huffed in annoyance before stepping backwards into the bathroom and closing the door in his face. 

After staring at the outfit you’d been designated, you looked stoically at the mirror, where the circlet he had made for you sat innocuous on your head. It was undeniable that, however it worked, it helped. 

Usually outside of your base, where the natural atmosphere neutralized the crystal implant’s effects, you tended to have small flashes of impairment- the edge of your vision would warp and fizzle like an old VHS tape. Or you would suddenly forget where you were long enough for it to be scary. Not to mention sleep was nearly impossible, since something about being unconscious made any interference even more palpable. Your dreams would take on a similar feeling to sleep paralysis, the sound of incoherent whispering or strange flashes of another presence would cause confusion or panic, from somewhere in your mind between dreams and reality, from a place where you could do little to escape it.

But since last night, when Rick had deftly slipped it over your head, it was as if the brewing tides of your mind finally stilled, just like when you were at home and the space station’s atmosphere muted all the static and allowed you to breathe easy.

“In for a penny, in for a pound.” You told your reflection, before shimmying out of your coat to slip into the garments you had been given.

Unsurprisingly, the neck of the red and white striped shirt dipped low enough that cleavage would be an issue. And of course he’d given you matching black bra and panties to underscore this was very much on purpose. _The old lech_ …..Your deep navy blue pants looked pretty cute though. They were high-waisted and flared out, with a set of three brass buttons over each hip. It occurred to you that he had known your exact measurements and managed to fetch you clothes that were flatteringly form-fitting. You gave yourself a second to reckon with that fact and then left to see what could possibly be going on in the living room.

“Yu _uggh_ pp Summer, you’re g-going on this one. All hands on deck, as it were, heh.”

“An adventure with (y/n)?!” Summer beamed, clamoring for the outfit Rick had tossed her. 

“ _Yes_ , god d-don’t be so thirsty.” Rick grumbled, rolling his eyes and dumping Morty’s outfit into his outheld hands. 

“R-Rick why are we dressing up? I-I like my clothes, I have a signature style!” 

“We gotta convince these guys, Morty! The guys we’re meeting with! Th-They expect a certain image!” 

“Is this….a sailor uniform?” Morty’s voice broke as he turned a small white naval cap in his hands, unsuccessfully trying to find an angle that made it look cool. He apparently knew it would be better to acquiesce than to request something more fetching, and so momentarily disappeared to put it on.

“That’s right Morty! We’re doing a nautical one!” Rick called after his grandson, continuing to yell when the door had closed after him. “W-We’re going to another planet where they’re all- they only travel by sea, Morty! It’s a nautical adventure!” 

“Oooh, is it like a cruise?” Summer asked, her mind clearly already racing at the glamour this evoked. 

Rick didn’t hesitate to dash any hopes. “This is a job. So....if you _worked_ on a cruise ship that was being used to transport smuggled cargo across legendarily dangerous waters and also I’m the boss of the cruise...then yeah, very similar.” Rick ushered for her to get ready, raising an eyebrow when Morty protested further, emerging in the outfit he’d been assigned. When he folded his arms in his white sailor’s uniform, it was hard for you not to snicker and pinch his cheek. It was almost absurdly cute but he was still an angsty teen after all.

“But why do we _all_ have to go?” he whined, obviously unhappy to share the thrill of a classic adventure with his older sibling.

“W-Were you listening, Morty? This is going to be serious work. Didn’t you hear that.. the ‘all hands on deck’ thing I said?” Here he pulled out his portal gun, upon seeing that Summer had returned clad in a larger version of Morty’s sailor uniform and not looking especially pleased about it either. “This ship comes with a small crew, but I’m gonna need g-good deckhands I can trust.” Rick was getting animated now, talking more passionately. “P-People with integrity. Wh-Who can handle important responsibilities! Y’know, can-do attitudes, with-with….” He blasted a portal in front of him.

“-With small hands for reaching little, weird spaces! F-For feelin around in t-tiny underwater crevices a-a-and good eyesight too!” Rick pulled back Morty’s eyelids to demonstrate as if he were roughly handling a show dog.

The four of you found yourselves in a grimy port, on another planet as promised. Rick was speaking to a pair of fish-like humanoids dressed in soggy dress shirts and slacks. One of them puffed on a cigar, sending the smoke right out of his gills. A few yards away, dozens of gruff men of the same species boarded an impressive looking vessel. The ship looked like a classical barquentine, only with its share of alien attributes. The translucent green sails had an almost insect-like texture, with veins and membranes similar to a dragonfly’s wings. Sea water as black as ink lapped against the grey hull of the ship, which you couldn’t discern to be made of either metal or wood. All around you, it was only sea and horizon. The timeworn walkway extending from the dock led so far into the foggy distance you couldn’t even see land.

“We’re running a serious operation here, Mister Sanchez. Not a daycare.”

“L-Listen, I know why you’re paying triple wages for this shit. No one wants to do it.” Rick draped his arm around the shoulders of the fishperson who acted like the boss of this operation. “Y-You’ll make that money back _tenfold_ after I’ve sent these three down to the murky depths where noooo one else is brave enough to explore.” You prickled at his use of the word ‘three.’ “They’ll be able to reach all kinds of hidd- underwater treasures! Rare specimens, recovered artifacts, y-y-you could start your own museum! Name it after yourself, broh! Pegana Derleth’s Expensive Menagerie!”

This so-called Pegana peeled Rick’s arm from himself and narrowed his eyes, which bugged out from either side of his head, eyelids stretching vertically over his huge glassy pupils. “You really plan on sharing those profits with me?”

“D-Did you honor my request for a full bar in the captain’s quarters? Let’s trade that, any deaths of crew members and damage to the ship....for _half_ of what we recover during the voyage.”

This was tempting enough, but Pegana still looked confused. The fishperson to his right finally piped in, standing about a head shorter and with a thinner figure. He wore suspenders and pearl spectacles that wrapped around his wide head. “You’re awfully cheerful for someone about to sail across the Cuskelt Passage...Clearly you’re not from around here.” 

Rick’s expression went flat and he plucked his flask from his back pocket, aware that he was about to sit through a dramatic retelling of a story he’d already heard. 

Pegana’s assistant went on fretfully, “Are you aware that hundreds of sailors in the past decade who have taken this passage either fall prey to sea madness or disappear completely? Ships show up to the harbor months after they were meant to return, only a few men still alive, turned to utter, raving lunatics. O-Or they simply sink in the middle of the expedition, with no apparent explanation for wreckage, and every soul on board….drowned.”

Boredly, Rick slid his arm across his mouth after downing a hearty draft of booze. “E _euughh_ xplains why you’re paying triple wages. We’re experienced seafarers, alright? What else can I say. J-Just look at how they’re dressed.” He gestured lackadaisically to his grandkids, who drooped with obvious consternation. 

“We’re paying for your risk _and_ discretion.” Pegana butted in, waving his cigar for effect.

Rick mimed locking his lips and tossing the key into the ocean. “I don’t know who I’m working for or what I’m...I’m transporting. All I know is I lo _ughhh_ ve the high seas a-and I can tame any storm or….monster or whatever.” 

After a pause, Pegana shrugged at his assistant. “Draw up a contract.”

Here, Rick flashed a giddy look at you, but it was hard to return his enthusiasm. He then tried to get a smile from Summer or Morty, but they could only frown back, both shivering in the salty winds that wound around you.

As you eventually boarded the ship, with Rick casually gripping your elbow to help you balance, you hissed a question at him from the corner of your mouth. “Can you please illuminate me as to how this is related to my fuckin surgery?” 

“Why don’t you just relax and e-enjoy the atmosphere, (y/n).. It’s very literary, if you think about it. I mean what’s more poetic than a-a ship at sea?” Summer and Morty followed behind the two of you as you surveyed the ship, occasionally greeted by various seamen as they passed.

“Lots of things.” You responded acidically, shoving your hands into your pockets as you both descended below the deck into the cabins. Several rows of beds and hammocks densely populated the room, along with a few unmarked barrels, ropes, candles and gnarled wooden tables. “An afternoon in a beautiful garden is poetic. A fucking Parisian cafe is poetic.” Rick snorted. “Christ wh-what kind of live laugh love bullshit are you rea _ughh_ ding? Th-Those are greeting card illustrations, not poems.” 

“Right, and you totally have the vibe of a dude with incredible taste _for sure,_ for sure.” You huffed, stopping in your tracks to turn and jab a finger at his chest. He merely smirked devilishly, snatching up your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I’m a polyglot, babe. If you only _knew_ the poetry this tongue was capable of-” 

“Rick-” Morty’s voice cut through whatever hazy tension was developing between you and the old man, giving you a chance to yank your hand back and wipe it mockingly on your pants. “....Everything is soaked, Rick. I-I think there’s a leak in the ceiling, th-the beds are all cold and wet...and they have stuff growing on ‘em…..”

“Okay and?” Rick mumbled apathetically, making his way through the room to a metal hatch in the floor and starting to turn a rusted wheel to unlatch it. “These people are like biological humans with fishy attributes, Morty. I-I-It’s good for them to be a bit damp. Try not to dismiss an entire culture within five minutes of being exposed to it.”

“What’s in there?” Summer approached with a curiosity tempered by an endless collection of experiences with her grandfather which told her it was probably something simultaneously very bad and very interesting. 

“Our cargo.” 

A single row of bare light bulbs automatically flickered on above you all, barely illuminating a huge room full of hundreds of shipping containers. It was like a warehouse tucked away inside the ship, dryer than the floor above it and creaking occasionally with the waves.

“We’re working for the mob. Well... _A_ mob.” Rick stated this almost as a throwaway comment, gracefully using an enhanced crowbar that melted the edges of the nearest container’s wall, causing its side to collapse open and reveal an impressive assemblage of weapons and what appeared to be a handful of sleek amphibious vehicles.

“Just as I su _uugh_ spected.” He eyed the contents as if it were a drawer full of knock-off Rolexes. “They’re trying to escalate tensions with the rival gang of this planet.” Here, he whispered “ _Prawns_ ,” behind his hand as if evoking them might cause some scandal in this slimy cargo hold. “Sending a bunch of this shit to their other members on another island so that they can assert their dominance, maybe beat the others into submission.” He unscrewed his flask, tossing the crowbar down into the container he’d just opened. “Ooor maybe they’re just gonna sell it, I dunno. Doesn’t really matter. We’re gonna _euughh_ steal it all either way.” 

Summer laughed tepidly. It wasn’t the sort of reveal she was expecting from an adventure on the high seas. Morty looked like he was trying to put a puzzle together in his mind but was missing several pieces. 

“The fuck, Rick? _That’s_ why we’re here?” You demanded, wholly unimpressed. 

His brow quirked up. “I mean it’s not priority number one but it’s a nice treat for us, jeez. W-We’re playing this from a few angles, just….” He looked as if he was starting to get pissed, his eyes darting from one silently accusing expression to another. “Screw each one of you if you’re gonna underestimate me like this. First of all, y-y-you ungrateful twerps, if you had the slightest idea how much any of this was worth..Actually I don’t need t- I shouldn’t try to e _ucchh_ xplain anything to you little shits.” 

He swept past you all, hands clasped behind his back like some regal naval officer. “I’m going up to my room, which happens to be the _captain’s quarters_.” Throwing a wicked look over his shoulder before he ascended, he offered one last barb. “J-Join me for dinner tonight. Unless you wanna eat with these fucking fish people..Share a-a hot fuckin bowl of steamed algae with all these rancid freaks…” You could hear his ramblings trail off as he did indeed stomp away to supposedly sequester himself in his quarters.

A few beats after his chaotic energy had evaporated, you sighed, looking at the two dismayed teens in front of you. “Let’s go see if we can find some dry blankets.” You muttered, ushering for them to climb out of the hatch and then following closely behind and shutting it soundly after you’d emerged.

* * *

As the three of you explored the ship and uncovered different points of intrigue, you felt the mood lighten significantly. Early in the day you sensed the ship lurch into motion after some yelling from crewmates and shifting of sails. You left the harbor quickly and soon were surrounded by nothing but the rolling, ebony waves of a sea whose name you didn’t even know. Throughout the afternoon you grew used to your lukewarm relationship with these fishpeople who regarded you human strangers with cautious interest and to the three pale suns overhead. When they finally began to dip towards the horizon, the sky turned the color of a bruise, and cast such gloomy shades on the deck that you felt like you were in a noire film.

“H-Hey (y/n), Summer look!” Morty stood triumphant in the open door of a relatively airtight storage closet, where some dry linens, among a few random curiosities had been kept. “Nice one!” You exclaimed, ruffling his hair and stepping inside. It was a fairly large room and you quickly spied an assortment of diving equipment, research gadgets and what looked to be a pile of harpoon guns.

While you all sorted through the charms this room had to offer, Rick’s voice was blasted from some sort of intercom system you hadn’t realized was hooked up throughout the ship, his command peppered with static. 

“A _uughh_ lright, you three. Time to report to the captain’s office... _urpp_ uh chamber.” After an exchange of wary looks, you wordlessly made your way as you were bidden, clinging to those dusty blankets as you crossed the deck that rose and fell with the mild rolling of waves.

* * *

It shouldn’t have been a shock how plush Rick’s quarters were, but alas, you found yourself practically blushing at the luxury of the room. Had enough time already passed that some vaguely tacky but definitely lavish interior decorating could bring color to your cheeks?

It was huge and included tall bookcases, a fully stocked bar, some sort of victrola looking device, and even a four poster bed, with lace curtains elegantly draped around it. Plus there were a set of tall windows above the desk, currently closed off with paisley drapes. 

A butler bowed to you in greetings as you entered, a towel folded over his fin.

“Pretty great, huh?” From the head of the dining table, Rick surveyed his guests with a glazed expression, clearly drunk. He was now wearing a deep blue jacket over his sweater and looking rather dignified in spite of his obvious inebriation, a wooden pipe drooping from the corner of his mouth.

The spread in front of him was nothing short of alien, but you could recognize seafood on any planet and were the first to take a seat. The other two followed less eagerly, plainly trying to find something that might be edible among the dishes, all plated beautifully for the captain’s pleasure.

“Y-You can leave now, Jorah.” Rick spoke to the butler with surprising respect. “Thanks for dinner.” Jorah nodded and quietly took his leave.

You were feeling extremely lucky that you had spent so much time traveling through the universe to sample various cuisines. Nothing really surprised you anymore, although some foods were naturally more appealing than others. After piling your share of different entrees and sauces onto one of the opaline plates set neatly at the table, you dug in and were pleasantly surprised.

“Not bad!” You breathed, quickly realizing how hungry you had gotten in the course of the day’s events. 

“Don’t be encouraged, kids. She’s got an adv _aughhh_ nced pallet.” Rick swirled a strange periwinkle liquid in a wine glass, then threw his head back and drained it in one quick motion. 

While Morty and Summer picked their way through their dinner, Morty took the chance to ask something that had been weighing on his mind. “Those guys this morning…..Said something about a curse.”

Despite the inevitability of this conversation, Rick was annoyed at the subject, as if disappointed Morty hadn’t already come to the conclusions he had. “Uh-huh…” He continued to practice blowing smoke rings as Morty stuttered his way through a question.

“Th-They said...I-I-It sounded like-”

“A bunch of superstitious bullshit? Yeah. Be-Because that’s what it is.” Rick interrupted rather cinematically, planting both his hands on the table. He was milking his role as captain for all it was worth. “Don’t worry about it. W-We’re actually immune to _eugh_ things that _aren’t real_.” He stood from the table now, pacing slowly.

“Then why do people keep disappearing?” Summer asked, pointing a small fork with a bit of shriveled kelp on its tines.

“We’re working for the mob, Summer. Th-These stories of curses and bad omens...They’re either a good way to ensure the folks they hire aren’t foo- gullible _fools_ o-or they’ve convinced themselves they’re real to avoid the truth...Only two _actual_ reasons people die out here. Murder….” He gritted his teeth, gripping a chair and staring away from you all. “....or _carelessness_.” 

“Carelessness?” Morty blinked, his eyes wide. There was something fascinating about how this boy who was apparently used to being carted around time and space by his grandfather had become numb to the prospect of murder. 

“Of course. Life on the sea is e-extremely dangerous.” Rick resumed his pacing, holding his pipe in front of his face as he did. “That’s what makes it _eughh_ sexy.”

“Wait but don’t these people have gills?” Summer chirped. “That guy said that all the crews before us drowned, that doesn’t make sense…”

“They’re a semi-aquatic species. In case their use o-of ships and pants and shit wasn’t enough of an indication. Th-They can’t survive underwater much longer than we can, Summer. Maybe a few hours and that’s it. But n-nice try.”

“Hm.” Summer began shoving different piles of foods around her plate. Morty hesitated before following up with his own question. “S-So what kind of ‘carelessness’ could be that bad out here? F-For someone t-to die?”

“Morty, your ignorance is unbecoming. W-We’ll go over nautical safety before your first dive.”

“Oh yeah.” His grandson scowled, planting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table. “You want us to go down there and collect a bunch of valuables for you with our ‘small hands.’ Y’know, that’s called exploitation Rick.” 

Rick rolled his eyes. “H-Here I thought you wanted a big boy adventure, Morty. I-I thought you wanted to do something exciting a-and bada _aughh_ ss. But apparently hunting for sunken treasure i-is too _unethical_ for you.” Morty glared at the table, pouting. 

“Can we talk about exactly what you’re expecting to collect from this dive?” You finally asked, standing to walk towards Rick’s chair at the end of the table and pluck the frosted bottle of periwinkle booze so that you could pour yourself a glass.

“Finally, a-a reasonable question.” Rick groused, gesturing to you for his grandkids as if to indicate that they should follow your example. 

“One of the reasons we accepted this job is because the ship's course goes right through the Trismus Trench, which we’re set to pass over in….” He surveyed an antiquated looking map, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “..three days. That’s where we’ll find the sea glass we need for implant extraction surgery, i-if I’m allowed to div _ulge_ that plan with you three now. I hope you think...judge that to be a worthy _purpose_ for taking this job, or is a billion flurbos in stolen goods a-and the safest crystal removal procedure attainable this side of the multiverse still not enough for the peanut gallery?” 

“Crystal removal procedure?” Summer glanced from Rick to you uneasily. Pretending like you didn’t notice, you took a swig of the bright liquor and were almost distracted by its complex flavor. It evoked minerals and rain, with an aftertaste of sweet vegetal smoke...Rick’s attention lingered on you momentarily as the siblings had their petty exchange.

“I-It’s a diamond that causes mind control, Summer, jeez. T-Try to keep up.” “Oh my god, shut it _nerd_. Like you would have even known that if it weren’t for Grandpa...”

“Morty, y-y-you don’t have the first idea of how this shit works. You’re not fool-...i-impressing anyone.” Seamlessly, Rick pulled out what looked to be a slender electronic gun and pointed it at your head, shooting a soft laser beam in your direction which then projected a rotating image of your skull for display. The stone glowed a sickly yellow in this image, strobing faintly in the midst of the blue light of your skeleton. You took another sip of your drink, observing the way your hologram jaw opened slightly, just as the jaw it mimicked in real time.

Rick gestured to the yellow light with a jab of his thumb. “It’s a crystalline implant installed by (y/n)’s ex-boyfriend, who, it just so ha _ugh_ ppens, n-never even made her-” You gasped, almost dropping your glass, before forcing out a choked “ _Rick_!”

He chuckled. “I’m just saying, it’s the act o-of an insecure man. Paying some black market sawbones to lodge a preposterously expensive radio receiver into someone’s brain stem just to fuck with them...What h-happened to good old fashioned gaslighting _uughh_ , amirite?” The image of your insides eventually vanished from the air, to your faint relief.

Summer was fascinated, watching you with the feminine sympathy of a teenager who had freshly experienced the devastation of break-ups and a broken heart. “Wait so...Your ex forced you to have that thing installed…?” 

Sighing, you finished off your first glass of the strange brew and refilled the chalice, which was delicately painted with a pattern of seashell shapes. “I didn’t know he was going to have some shit planted in my head…” You considered your audience, then leaned back in your chair, figuring that honesty would be the easiest route. “...The Galactic Federation was ‘after me’ so to speak...I was on their...I guess you could call it a ‘most wanted list.’” It was hard for you to reference this without your tone becoming sardonic. “And I’d heard there was some kind of procedure that could make you undetectable to the Federation’s identity scans. Like burning off your fingerprints buuut….at a quantum level.” 

You shrugged. “I should have known something was up when Leone said he would sponsor the procedure, that he knew the perfect guy to do it, blah blah.” You held up the drink to your gaze, watching Morty and Summer through the shimmering liquid, their mixture of concern and enthrallment turned abstract when you squinted. “But being hunted by the government can make you do desperate things.” Rick scoffed from his writing desk, of which he now perched on the edge, sullenly smoking his pipe as he listened with a characteristic detachment.

Morty set his silverware down, his brow furrowing as he asked solemnly the question you knew was coming but weren’t sure how to approach. “Wh-Why were you wanted by the government?”

“Weeeell….” Tilting your head down, you tugged playfully on your shirt collar as a joke, but your audience merely stared, waiting. “You already know I make drugs, Morty. That was...part of it.” Scrubbing your forehead, you shot a look at Rick who stonewalled you, merely raising an eyebrow. “I’m...loosely affiliated with a... _group_. Called the Chaperones. Or the Companions or Accompaniment, depending on where you go. It’s been translated so many times and anyway the whole point is that it’s not a formal, hierarchical group. More like...a network. It exists to help anyone who’s been targeted or oppressed by the Federation.” 

Rick was amused. “It’s e-essentially space antifa. They’re political.” There was a strange condescension in his voice, which you clicked your tongue at.

“More like principled. 'Political' in the same sense that hackers are political. Or _pirates_.” 

His expression turned grim so you continued. “Anyway I had….gotten into some trouble working with the Chaps. And one of the people heavily involved in it….That was Leone. He….We had some _history_ ,” you sharpened your voice as your gaze flitted to Rick. Regarding the kids, you relaxed once again into a forced casualness. “And he was salty about all that. But I’d also...challenged him in some ways. He was trying to turn some of the Chaperones into his own personal militia and I went against him...I didn’t realize at the time how _much_ of a vendetta he had.” Twisting away from them, you lifted up your hair and the point of the crystal sparkled in the candlelight, right at the nape of your neck. “Now I know.” 

After letting this simmer, Rick belched into the silence. “S-So do we feel inspired now? To do what we can to unfuck (y/n)’s condition?” He pointed his pipe at Morty, looking like a slightly more psychotic Ernest Hemingway. “Eeeven if that includes scuba diving for some very rare sea glass?” Morty’s _yes Rick_ was startlingly genuine, and it almost brought a tear to your eye to see how these adolescents now looked at you with a sort of bizarre admiration. Not that you felt like you deserved it, yet there was an unexpected pureness inherent in their eagerness to right whatever wrong had been committed in your story of moral grays. 

"Goo _uuggh_ d! Then you better sleep well Morty, b-better get your dang rest! Because tomorrow you'll be deep, deep down in those inky black depths o-of the sea! That's where all kinds of..o _ughh_ f freaky creatures live, Morty! So you better get your sleep, 'cuz that's what they call Davy Jones' locker! O-One wrong move and you're stuck there for eternity!"

* * *

After laying out your share of woolly blankets, you were relieved at the surprising coziness of your bunk and tried to make the most of the crude quaintness of these shared quarters. You had resolved to sleep in your clothes, bra and all, considering there was no apparent place to stow such items and you didn't totally trust all these strangers not to rifle through your unmentionables...Thankfully the garments Rick had chosen were rather flexible and didn't hamper your comfort in any noticeable way. 

Gradually, crew members began to blow out their oil lamps. Some reluctantly got out of bed to take their shifts, while others rambled in from a day of work to collapse into well-earned sleep. The rocking of the ship was almost enough to put you out, but Summer was whispering your name from the cot across from you. 

"Huh?" You blurted, sitting up and hazily making out her stern expression in the barely lit cabin. She was close enough that you could hear her whispers.

"What kind of things does Leone do...with the crystal?" It seemed the sickly horror of your affairs were enough to keep her awake. Rolling over to face her from your side, you wondered if it would be better to simply tell her to go back to sleep. Instead you heard yourself answer.

"Sometimes..." You started groggily, not sure where to begin. "He'll spy on me. Or say weird shit. It's like a phone call I can't hang up on. I'll be at a party trying to talk to friends and he'll suddenly be in my brain, trying to...get me back. Or threatening me. Depends on his mood..."

Summer continued to stare intently.

"Um...Other times," your gaze wandered as you thought, watching some kind of rat-like creature scurry under someone's bed a few feet away. "Oh, he'll try and trick me into thinking something happened that didn't. Like he'll feed me false memories of cheating on him or stealing from him whatever. Just psychological bullshit, he's not very creative. I guess he has his own crystal and it lets him pretty much do whatever. Like one-sided telepathy."

A few seconds passed and Summer's voice was startlingly emotional. "It sounds...terrible." 

It shook you a bit to hear her react with such sincere, mature compassion. It was clear the concept disturbed her. 

Instinctively you wiggled to the edge of your cot and held a hand out, which she took. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart." You assured her, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Your grandpa made me this tiara thing that blocks out Leone. And the bonus is it makes me look like I'm at Coachella!" She giggled at this. "And actually it was lucky, because it all led to me meeting you and your brother. And now we're on a crazy adventure together!" 

Summer stared back at you with that same serious look, then clenched your hand.

"I hope you get to kick his ass (y/n). Actually....I know you will." 

* * *

In the middle of dreamless sleep, you felt the heavy weight of someone leaning on your cot.

Your initial exclamation was muffled by Rick's hand, as he seemed to anticipate panic.

"Shhhh." He looked at you harshly, like your reaction was completely irrational. He was hovering over you. 

"D-Did you bring weed?"

After a furtive glance at Summer's sleeping form, you pushed yourself into a sitting position to reprimand Rick in the quietest yell you could muster. "The fuck is wrong with you, what time-" 

"I _urrghp.._ I wanna show you something...." He was already tugging you onto your feet, only giving you a second to collect the case of pre-rolls from your clutch. 

It seemed like he was dragging you through a labyrinthine set of winding staircases and sets of heavily barricaded doors, all the while ignoring your demands to know what could possibly validate waking you up at whatever ungodly hour it might be. Eventually you gave up in your protests, accepting that a small part of you was curious, though you weren't about to admit it.

When you finally arrived, the destination appeared to be a small observation chamber, with a myriad of floor cushions and poufs arranged around a gigantic octagonal window.

"Check it out." Rick muttered, pressing a button near the entrance which shot some kind of beam of light from the room, through the window, and into the gloomy water on the other side.

Though the chamber itself remained dark to your eyes, hundreds of gleaming jellyfish were suddenly illuminated outside of the window, lethargically floating through in the blackness of the ocean, elegant and gossamer, their long tendrils occasionally grazing the glass.

He watched you settle onto a cushion in front of the view, admired your sleepy awe.

"Pretty d-dreamy, huh?" He asked redundantly, folding his long legs underneath himself as he settled onto the cushion next to you and scratched his chin idly. "It's a wavelength similar to ultraviolet light, specific to the electromagnetic fields of this planet. People born here c-can actually see it with their naked eye.....Anyway, let's smoke." 

At this point, you were more than happy to oblige, pulling out a pre-roll and watching fondly as he struck a match, which he brought gracefully towards your face. You cupped your hand around his as he protected the flame and the gentle contact made you feel silly. You inhaled.

As the luminescence of these strange creatures shined through the window and danced over his face, Rick was especially alluring, if not ethereal. He no longer wore his captain's jacket and had rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. He looked rugged and pretty all at once.

"Y'know they say that women a-are bad luck on ships." He exhaled a cloud of thick, earthy smoke as he uttered this mischievously. His gaze dragged up your figure, making a whole show of it.

"Oh yeah?" You crooned, bringing the joint to your mouth as it was passed and turning to watch the jellies, feeling lightheaded.

Rick inched closer, one hand planted on the floor. "Y-You're supposed to ask, 'then why did you bring me here?'"

Your heart hitched in your chest. "Why?" was all you could muster, looking back up at him.

Instead of replying or taking the spliff, he nudged your sleeve from your shoulder with his thumb to reveal the top portion of your bra. In the strange light beamed throughout the otherwise dark room, an embroidered pattern in your lingerie lit up against the black fabric, as bright as the jellyfish behind you. It was an intricate filigree, woven with thread that glowed pink, which disappeared under the collar of your drooping shirt. 

After gauging your expression, Rick finally retrieved the weed, plucking it straight from your mouth and delivering it to his own. He followed this by fluttering his hands to your sides, then easing your shirt off and over your head. His voice was low as he brought his lips near your ear.

"To do this..." 

Your entire bra was decorated with a previously invisible, delicate floral pattern, which curved around your breasts like luminous neon calligraphy.

With the sea's natural lava lamp as your backdrop, you had little time nor desire to think before Rick was kissing you, with one hand on your face, joint pinched between his lithe fingers, and the other tracing along those secret lines which gleamed for him in the near-dark. 

When he allowed his deft fingers to rake over one of your stiffened nipples, he growled with approval into your mouth, mingling with your gasp of pleasure. It was a chance for him to sweep his tongue across yours, exploring and classifying which tastes were the elemental booze you had shared earlier and which tastes were purely you. Before you could catch up, groping at his sweater and pulling him closer, he was planting raunchy kisses down your neck.

"Wanna see what your panties look like?" You shivered when you felt his hot breath against your collarbone, then the sensation of one of your pant buttons being undone. Rick's mouth remained in that spot as a second button followed promptly. "Hm?" Obviously amused at how you'd flustered, he brought the joint over your shoulder to his face so that he could carefully toke, letting smoke trickle upward as he dipped low again to kiss above your breast. When you answered with a breathy "Yeah...." he leaned upwards long enough to place the joint between your parted lips, which gave him use of both hands once more. 

Rick then pressed you firmly back so that you were leaned against the concave window, its coldness complimenting the heat radiating between the two of you as he trailed kisses down your stomach, breathing heavily as he made quick work of the rest of your buttons and effortlessly slid your pants off. You took a large hit as you watched, eyelids fluttering, and haphazardly tapped away the ash that had been building up. 

The way Rick's face hovered so close between your thighs as he admired the panties he'd instructed you to wear was almost so invigorating you missed the design that was revealed. The image of him on his knees like this was already enough to make your head spin. But when you caught a glimpse of the pattern, you thought it was divine. Astonishingly detailed leaves, floral blooms and ornamental curls all radiated from the center of your pelvis, where in that same glowing thread, was a nautical star. "A compass rose..." Rick traced a finger around the bright symbol, bringing the ache between your legs to a new level of need. You resisted the urge to buck your hips. "...It's supposed to be good luck. L-Leads a man to home." In a fluid motion, Rick's drifting hand fell downwards and his finger landed almost preternaturally on your clit. He rubbed it excruciatingly slow, dragging the soaked fabric across your most sensitive point and pulling a low groan from you, much to his satisfaction.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watched you put the roach out on the window sill and regard him with the foggy grin of a horny, stoned woman in a metallic tiara. "I thought you said you.. weren't superstitious." You hummed, punctuating it with a whimper as his fingers travelled along your labia, then back towards your clit.

"You're right." Rick didn't miss a beat, hooking a finger on the fabric and tugging. "Which means we won't be needing-" 

Out of nowhere, the sound of an alarm bell started ringing deafeningly from the hallway. The flashing of a red light leaked underneath the closed door of the observation chamber and you could hear the sound of heavy footsteps racing overhead. 

"What the _fuck_." Rick barked, already standing so that you got a very good view of the obvious bulge in his pants. You started to speak but he held up a hand to shush you. More than anything, he looked annoyed rather than startled. "Stay here, (y/n)." He ordered, not leaving it up to debate. 

Rolling your eyes, it occurred to you that you were far too high and nautically illiterate to be of any help, and so disappointedly watched him stomp out and lock the door behind him. The alarm stopped relatively soon after, but Rick didn't return. Considering the room was much quieter than the crew's quarters and the fact that you had no idea how to get back if you wanted to, you resolved to stay there for the night. It took very little time to sate your own stoked desires, although the release felt a bit anticlimactic, thinking only of Rick as you came against your own fingers.

Eventually you fell asleep on a few cushions pushed together, blissfully unaware of the things which passed by the window, though the eyes of the sea lingered on you before the light timed out and all went dark. 


	5. Nangs (Pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Hey all, hope you're well and staying as sane as possible during this time. This ended up being way longer and more convoluted than I expected, but I wanted to try and write a self-contained classic R&M adventure that also contributed to the over-arching plot so here we are. I'll probably be dropping a shorter more smuttier chapter after this. But it was a fun experiment so I hope you like it. I'm sure there's all kinds of typos/mistakes but I felt like I was done so it's as done as it's going to be lol))
> 
> In part two we learn the second reason I picked Nangs as the title.

“Ma’am, was this the sort of hat you were asking for?”

You were sprawled out at the stern of the ship after requesting that a velvet chaise lounge from Rick’s cabin be moved to the upper deck so that you might sunbathe.

This crew of Pisciniates (as you eventually learned their species was called) had warmed up to you as the time passed and were now easily convinced to do small favors during the day’s drudgery of upkeep and navigation, while Rick rapidly became a tyrannical and paranoid captain.

From what you had gathered from his ravings, that first evening when the alarms had gone off, he and Morty got into a scuffle with a few fish-men who had been found screwing around in the dead of night, sending coded signals to an unknown location from the ship’s radio room, an enigmatic message which Rick had immediately shut himself away to study. The mood around the ship rapidly declined thereafter.

He became convinced that there was a mutiny brewing, that among these fishpeople, these Pisciniates, there were conspirators waiting to overthrow him so that they might appropriate the ship’s valuable and dangerous cargo for their own use. Perhaps some of them were working with prawns. All he knew was that the message they had been trying to send with the ship’s equipment held some significance that would give him the upper edge, were he to interpret in time.

At one point Rick found a cryptic note scribbled on a handkerchief and jumped to the conclusion that even Morty was involved, and you’d had to aggressively intervene when he held a knife to his grandson’s throat, practically foaming at the mouth.

* * *

“I-I-Is that what you think, MORTY?” He had cried over your shoulder, as you grappled him into the nearby bookcase, which shuddered with the impact of a rabid scientist being backed into it as he continued to point and flail. “Y-You think you’re just g-gonna cut your losses on a B-grade adventure and ha _aagghh_ nd me over t-to those freaks? What did they offer you, Morty?!”

As Summer ushered her shaken brother out of the room, shouting expletives at her grandpa all the while, Rick turned his glare towards you and pushed past brusquely once you released your grip. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gotten to you too, (y/n). Bet these Pisciniates could make you some reaaal sweet connections. Few new markets to push your stuff in, huh?” Folding his arms, he sat in a dark leather wingback chair and watched you sternly. “What’re you gonna do in e _uuughh_ xchange, help them hijack the ship? Joke’s on you babe, _no one_ on board would have the slightest chance at o-overriding my system.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about old man….been drinking salt water, have you?” You snapped, picking up a few books that had spilled onto the plum-colored carpet to haphazardly shove them back on the shelf.

“Why don’t you ask….The _traitors_ who wrote _this_.”

He flicked a note in your direction and you managed to snatch it from the air.

_Everything is ready, save for the Yxagnnus_

Raising an eyebrow, you waved the fragment of parchment and almost laughed. “ _This_ is why you’re threatening to slit a kid’s throat? It’s only our third night at sea Rick, and you’ve already lost it. Is becoming completely unhinged usually part of your adventures or is this new? Because it seemed to happen _really_ easily.”

You had hardly finished speaking when he was planting his hands on either side of your shoulders and suddenly you were the one backed into the wall, his spindly frame looming over your own. His glassed over pupils were completely blown out and there was something about them that felt off but you couldn’t put your finger on it, even as he brought his face close to yours. He smelled like tobacco, sweat, and rum flavored with a spice you didn’t recognize, and his breathing was choppy. “I-If they- if you know something I don’t...you b _eggh_ htter tell me, (y/n). Right now is y-your only chance. After this, no mercy for...for traitors. Not even _you_.”

Where was this coming from so suddenly? Behind him a schizophrenic hodgepodge of papers had been pinned to the wall. What appeared to be pages torn from atlases and history books, scribbled notes, and attempts at code breaking in the ragged strokes of an abused fountain pen all fanned out from a central point: the symbols rendered from whatever version of morse the troublemakers originally used to tap out their esoteric dispatch. “ _Aiukthild'dhrud Xaiogdesz Mlaovhu Ahedhresh_ ” et cetera. A bone-handled knife had even been driven through one of the maps, pinning a sepia photo of a strange coral formation to the collection of fragments. It ultimately reeked of pure derangement.

He watched your eyes flicker over his face and then narrow. “Fine. Here’s a few things you apparently _don’t know._ ” Your voice was barely above a whisper as the ship creaked and groaned. His gaze steeled and he gritted his teeth, clearly expecting a confirmation of his suspicions. Instead the whining sound of your laser pistol filled the silence as you activated it at your side, then brought it slowly to nestle under his chin, pressing the end of its barrel upwards so that his head tilted back ever so slightly. You were convinced there was a glint of amusement on his otherwise tired face. “First...I brought my gun.” He barely reacted to the weapon poised to blast a hole right through his pickled brains, merely letting his arms slide away to free you, though he still stood firmly in place.

“Second…I have no patience for other people’s drama and if you let this mutiny bullshit get in the way of my fucking surgery….” You slipped past him and his shoulders sagged as he watched you pass through the cabin to leave, smoothly returning your gun to a holster on the inside of your thigh, well-hidden by your dress. “Well. Let’s just say I could still make a pretty penny off of you.” You were being cute but there was an edge to your voice. All traces of allurement had melted from Rick’s face and now he merely looked lonely and grim. You took your time, pushing the door open but still speaking in a taunting sing-song. “I had my people check you out, Captain. And if investing in these little exploits of yours turns out to be a waste, I know a few folks that would pay big money to spend some...quality time with you….You’ve made a loooot of enemies, Rick Sanchez.”

You were about to step through the door when Rick lunged forward, slamming it shut and plucking the circlet from your head before you had time to react.

Your knees buckled at the flood of psychic energy and you almost didn’t hear him hiss “You need me,” his cold rage tinged with desperation, holding his invention high above himself like a childish bully. He began to rant, flailing his arms deliriously, but you could hardly make out any of his words.

Foreign voices and sensations exploded through your mind, bringing with them a violent wave of nausea. It felt like your head might crack open at the sheer volume of overwhelming chaos that reverberated disonantly. It was true that you had gotten used to the stillness produced by the stupid little tiara and the effectiveness with which it dampened any interference from outside your own mind.

Perhaps it had to do with being on another planet, perhaps messages Leone had sent in the last few days had somehow collected and were released now all at once. Either way it was much more of a shock to your system than you could have guessed and as static manifested at the back of your head, surging up to the forefront of your skull, you wondered if you would collapse. Hallucinatory creatures bobbed around you- crabs, seahorses, and eels all composed a flickering crooked spiral pattern, spinning idly on the floor and then lifting into the air, turning like a wheel.

Rick watched you gape, fumbling for your gun and shakily firing a shot near his head. As he dodged, you managed to snatch the circlet, cramming it back on and then stumbling out, slamming the door behind you after firing off one more laser for good measure. You had vaguely aimed in the direction of his neurotic project but very well might have missed. The pissy groan you heard from the room indicated that you at least set him back an hour or two.

Morty and Summer were standing at the edge of the ship and called out to you as you collapsed onto your knees. It occurred to you that they might assume you had shot their grandfather.

“It’s fine, I missed.” You spat, before unsteadily standing again as Summer rushed over to help you, draping your arm over her shoulder. Fury spilled over and you turned to scream at the door before she carted you away. “BUT NEXT TIME HE WON’T BE SO LUCKY.”

For someone who had been so unconcerned with sea madness, your self-appointed captain had proven to be astoundingly susceptible to all-consuming delusions which had now alienated everyone on board. You certainly showed no interest in sharing his bed and he didn’t ask. In fact, you could hardly find any trace of the suave sailor you’d almost fucked below deck in this raving madman who had replaced him...

* * *

“Thank you Omlandi, sweetie.”

Through circular reflective sunglasses, you watched this particular seafarer nod respectfully before leaving you to return to his post in the engine room. He had brought you a drab sun hat, composed of what you guessed was waxed cotton, and a drawstring that dangled above your cleavage after you placed it on your head. It didn’t exactly fit, considering it was made for another species, but it would do just fine.

It turned out that Rick had brought along a steamer trunk of clothing for his small band of humans and a decent collection of somewhat revealing, nautical themed clothing had been designated just for you. You promptly cut a pair of red cigarette pants into frayed shorts and donned a starched white blouse which you unbuttoned down the middle so that the sunlight could reach more of your chest and tummy. Your cleavage was still technically covered, and you wore another one of those bras underneath (this set was a bold crimson) which had been chosen with your body in mind, though you tried not to think about it now since Rick had subsequently come unglued.

Alien seabirds trailed the ship, with sinuous plumage colored like soft jade, their beaks long and narrow. Massive, narwhal-like creatures occasionally came to the surface, releasing fragrant clouds of glittering smoke from their blowholes, their four horns shaped like the Hebridean sheep’s of Earth.

Reclined against such a backdrop, you practically resembled a mirage, especially as the planet’s trio of suns crested in the sky and your skin glowed.

Of course if anyone thought they would try something while you read a water-logged book about the Wyledimm Ocean which you now traversed, they would first have to reckon with the harpoon launcher blatantly draped across your lap. A raspy, familiar voice announced a potential candidate for its attention.

“Oiled up already? What a shame. I could’ve helped with those hard to rea _ugghh_ ch spots.”

Your shades showed Rick’s grin back to him, then flashed in the abundant sunlight when you looked down again at the book you had been reading, your expression stoic. “I’m busy.” You muttered, with a patented sharpness that many had learned to fear.

“Y-Y-You ever heard of n-nitrogen narcosis?” Naturally Rick failed to acknowledge your statement, pulling up a crate to sit next to you and speaking casually as if you hadn’t sent a lightning hot beam of energy past his head only the night before. Though he sounded more like himself, his disheveled hair and the circles under his eyes reminded you of the rampant preoccupation with conspiracy just below his surface.

“Narcosis….narcotic….something to do with intoxication.” You grumbled, staring at the words on the page in front of you without registering them. “Huh. Impressive. Didn’t know I was speaking to a cunning linguist.” He teased relentlessly.

Your tone grew venomous. “Rick. Go find something else to do. I’m reading.” Yet again, it did little to deter Rick, who was now in a purely mischievous mood. “What’re you, tsundere? You’re being really tsundere right now, (y/n).” His casual prodding was baffling.

“Shouldn’t you be off _unraveling_ in your cabin?” You growled, finally turning to him and lifting your sunglasses back to rest on the top of your head so he could experience the full power of your glare. “Don’t you have some _mysterious message_ to obsess over?”

He simply smirked, folding his arms.

“Already translated it. L-Learned some pretty..preeeetty interesting shit, but y’know, if you’re busy _reading_ ….” It was fairly strange to hear him now, playfully trying to draw you in, tilting his head down at you, convinced he deserved all attention and praise. Your practiced evil eye didn’t waver, but he proved immune.

“Th-These fuckers are part of a cult!” He revealed, clearly so amused at the prospect he couldn’t bother holding it back any longer. Perking up, you looked around to see if anyone had heard his not-so-subtle exclamation. You judged that most of the crew were far enough away that it shouldn’t be a concern, but you still hunkered down and gestured for him to talk more quietly. He placed his forearms on his thighs and leaned in, gleeful that his gossip had been deemed worthwhile.

“I wondered why so many of, of these Pisciniates w-would agree to a jo _auggh_ b like this wh-when they’re so superstitious, a-and figured it was just the high pay. Turns out they’re even more superstitious than I even guessed and th-this route goes right over one of their ‘holy sites.’ That message they sent from the ship’s radio was, translates i-into a song that these mofos use t-to...they think it makes people more open to influence. They used some advanced technology to, they have some craaazy technology, (y/n). T-Took me a second to figure it out, th-the properties of this signal...l-like nothing I’d ever seen...”

He licked his lips, though saliva still collected at the edge of his mouth. You had to admit, this group of rugged sailors had been almost unsettlingly polite and taciturn, though you hadn’t made much of it til now.

“Th-they’re gonna try some fucked up ritual over the Trismus Trench. Some, y’know like a ceremony wh-where they supposedly drum up some eldritch, a-ancient power and do sexy dances with it or whate _eghh_ ver. Th-think they’re uhh planning on sacrificing us too!”

He brought one of his fingers to the sharpened point of the loaded harpoon gun that jutted from your lap and trailed it along the barrel that contained it. “And I’m gonna craaaaaash their party. ” He helped himself to the somewhat cumbersome tool, lifting it smoothly from your clutches and aiming it over the side of the ship. “Because it’s not an old god they’re summoning. It’s gas- a c-collection of _gasses_.”

“Ohh Jeez!”

You hadn’t been aware of Morty’s approach but turned calmly to greet him. His face was bright red and his eyes darted nervously. Rick swung around, now pointing the harpoon launcher at him. “Morty, go _urrghhhp_ stretch Morty. Go do y-your stretches! Use that brochure I gave you. Th-The Little Gentleman Diver’s brochure...Today’s the day! Diving day! You have to stretch o-o-or you’re gonna cramp!!”

As Rick yelled these proclamations, Morty was trying extremely hard to look anywhere but at your body, which admittedly resembled a nautical-themed pinup’s. All the while Morty stuttered incessantly, trying to interrupt his grandfather so that the result was just an overlap of overeager rambling. “D-Did you say something about gods, Rick? I-Is there something weird….Is that why you kept walk-..walking through the ship and muttering about th-the ‘old ones’ Rick? A-A-Are we gonna have to fight some, some kinda monsters o-or something because I think it would only be fair for us to know!”

Rather carelessly, Rick tossed the contraption back to you (thankfully you caught it but gave him a ‘don’t make me accidentally shoot your grandson with a harpoon’ look) and stood up tall with feverish excitement. “Hundreds of years ago, another civilization f-fought their battles over these waters, and an e _eghhh_ ntire fleet of spaceships crashed into the sea. Th-The so-called curse we were warned about is a result of a-all the gasses leaking from ships, Morty! This crew….They’re part of a cult that believes in, like octopus deities and mermaid go _auughh_ ddesses. They came here, p-planned this pilgrimage f-for- thinking the famous curse was the presence of their gods….But...It’s fumes! The old gods are fumes!”

“Uhhh…” Morty croaked, attempting to let all the pieces fall into place. Sadly he was not given the time, as Rick began to shove him towards Summer, who had come looking for him, clad in a sleek pink diving suit, a bubble-shaped helmet under her arm. “Morty, come _on_! Did you even read your brochure?!”

You and Rick watched them wander away to prepare. “So? You never said what it is.” You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head as Rick settled back down next to you.

“What?” “Nitrogen narcosis.”

You suddenly felt like you had fallen into a trap, as Rick’s face took on a dark satisfaction. He lowered his voice. “That’s what happens to deep sea divers on earth when the change in atmospheric pressure affects the air they’re inhaling. Disorientation. Reduced muscle function. Euphoria. Y-You go deep enough and then….suddenly y-you’re drunk on your own _breath_.”

He certainly was good at making such an objectively terrifying concept sound sexy.

“Oh yeah?” Was all you’d give him. You weren’t about to humor him quite yet, but you were admittedly keen to see where this was going. 

“This-” he gestured to the jet black waters of the Wyledimm Ocean around you, “is the reverse effect. Th-The breathing tanks of these ships were meant to keep occupants alive at ex _treme_ vacillations of pressure and de _eghh_ pth. N-Now that their contents are continually being released from the rubble, the furthest location from the puncture point a-above sea level is the perfect spot for a hallucinogenic ritual. And if that’s not saucy enough for you, we can harness the residual vapors this shit creates to... to make-”

“Captain!” A crew member called out to Rick and his grin dropped in an instant, impressive shift into gritty seaman, his posture straightening. “We’re approachin’ the Trench, sir. Five melontvas and countin’ sir. Reckon it would be a good time fer preparin’ t’dive.”

If it weren’t so fucking attractive the way Rick stood with such gravitas, his arms behind his back, it would have been funny. “Very good. I’ll take my post i-in a moment.” He whipped around to you, clinging your arm obnoxiously.

“S-So the plan is: you go diving with the kids. Collect whatever l-looks valuable, (y/n). Th-th-they don’t know the first thing about this shit, they have no taste. I’m gonna need your eye down there...A-Anything...a-a-as much as those sticky fingers of yours can reach. I’ll tug your lines if I need back-up. But I should be able to handle them if things start to pop off and y-you three need to be down there as long as possible. To get the best bang for our buck, so to speak.”

“What about the sea glass! Isn’t that the whole point of this trip? This whole cult thing seems like a lot of speculation, and frankly I’m not half as concerned by this crew than I am for _your_ sanity and _my_ fucking operation.” You demanded after being pulled to your feet, tossing your book onto the chaise lounge in a huff.

“Yeah yeah yeah! Obviou _ughhh_ sly. The sea glass, too.” Rick’s attention was elsewhere, beginning to head in the direction of Morty and Summer so you tugged back, pulling him forcefully towards you.

“I’m not fucking around here, Rick.”

“Easy. E-Every sailor knows a frisky _cat_ means _wind_.” He was allowing himself to be pulled towards your level, smug as ever as he crooned flirtatiously. “C-Can’t afford that on a day like today…”

“Don’t make me regret trusting you. Because _you_ will regret it _tenfold_.”

“C’mon, I’m being considerate. I know you’re not the type to miss out on extra profits. Why say no to a side hustle when it presents itself, huh?”

“‘ _Considerate_ ,’ that’s rich...”

“Maybe not if you stop and think for a second, hm (y/n)? After all, I picked out a-a whole fuckin collection of novelty lingerie at the tourist trap on Norring-10 where I got my captain’s hat. Just for you.”

Though his eyes remained on yours, you felt him drawing your blouse back. “D-Don’t you want to find out what’s on this pair….after foiling some plan these fanatics have to kill us...just _agghh_ bsolutely go to town on each other with a pile of...of priceless relics t-to keep us company?”

His head had dipped towards yours and your lips almost touched, but you pulled back to do some calculations.

“...Didn’t you say everyone on this planet is born seeing the kind of light waves that illuminate these things?” You asked dryly.

Across the deck you could hear Morty shriek as blood spurted spontaneously from his nose, dropping the pair of brass binoculars he’d been distracting himself from his diving lesson with.

You had discarded your already revealing outfit to model your lacy bra and panties to the nearest Pisciniate. “What do you see, Enbmeado?” you asked a petty officer as he passed.

Enbmeado leaned in to take a good look at otherwise invisible designs which showed a bright gold in his field of vision. He wore a little red Jacques Cousteau cap and overalls, and happily pointed at your breasts and crotch with a thin blue fin as he narrated the corresponding images that revealed themselves to him.

“Seashells, anemones….Heh. Cute. A starfish.”

You squinted up at Rick with satisfaction. “The surprise is ruined. You have no power over me.” The sea had taken on a sort of heady smell and it made you feel coquettish.

“Uh-huh. You’re right. _You_ won this one.” His voice dripped with salacious irony as he leered, helping himself to a nice swig from his flask.

Shrugging, you shamelessly turned in a circle for him, modeling the pieces, doused in sunlight aside from the bit of shade the brim of your hat provided. You had made your point (what was your point again?) and now you could give into the self-indulgence he goaded from you.

“Y-You better be careful, (y/n), or you’ll distract me….and then you’ll forget aaall about sea glass…”

He held out his hand. You paused and then took it.

* * *

“Now. One of us has to stay on deck and that’ll be me. I can’t go down there because I don’t trust these creeps to pull some shit on us during their little Neptunalia. Never know, y-you never know with obscure rituals like this. Might get freaky.” The sounds of the crew dropping anchor filled the silence of calm waters, along with the occasional cackle from seabirds which perched on the ship.

“Yeah, keep pretending like they don’t just hate _you_ for being a _dick_.” Summer snapped, rolling her eyes. This earned her grandpa’s petty side-eye but before he could retort, Morty’s form wobbled.

“I feel funny.” He said, placing his hands on each side of his transparent helmet, now wearing a blue diving suit of Rick’s own design.

“It’s okay, Mortyyy. It’s the gas! The closer you get to the wreck, the less it’ll affect you. I-I’ve built up a pret-pretty high tolerance to most inebriants, so I’ll be fine up here. Y-You three just focus on putting aaaalllll the loot you can get your hands on in these ba _aghhh_ skets. (Y/N) will have a gun b-but I don’t expect she’ll need to use it. No creature worth any concern could have survived the conditions of those toxic wrecks, unless of course it built up an immunity but that would have taken a-a-at least a few centuries.”

Looking down at your own violet suit, you were still surprised at how comfortable it was. It fit somewhat like neoprene, clinging but breathable. Some metallic patches had been sewn into its shoulders and legs, to help regulate your body’s reactions to dramatic changes in pressure. There were also small jets at your ankles, which a corresponding button at your wrist would allow you to move quickly against any changes in current.

In your hands you gripped a lightweight gun. It supposedly only functioned underwater, so Rick had flaunted the fact that the safety wasn’t even on, playfully aiming at his own head before handing it lackadaisically over to you. Its shape evoked an old-fashioned flintlock pistol, but it was enameled with what looked like quartz and hazy green pearl, and a light flickered at its side to indicate it was loaded. With what, you weren’t entirely sure.

“ _This_ is a picture of the sort of sea glass we need for (y/n)’s procedure. Th-The way this stuff gets created...I-It’s basically trash th-that the waves turn into treasure. Cute, huh?” He had pulled out a chalkboard to use for the cursory lesson in safe diving and now poked at the photo he had taped to the corner of bisected chunks of sea glass, accompanied with magnified images of its chemical makeup which meant nothing to anyone but Rick.

“Y’know on earth, humans drop glass into the ocean and it spends enough time down there rollicking around in the waves, tumbling tumbling, until it turns into a frosted stone that a weird aunt can then collect a-and make into weird jewelry. The ships that crashed in the Trismus had an abundance of rare Smarkian glass on board, th-they used it in e-everything from dishes to navigational displays, which combined with the chemical makeup of the Wyledimm to create a stone with a composition unlike any other in the known universe. We’re going to get that to make tools for safe removal of (y/n)’s device.”

The three of you soon made your way below deck, past a few members of the crew who were rather indiscreetly passing around a strange goblet and taking large gulps of its contents. Rick elbowed you as if you needed him to point it out. “Loo _oeugh_ ks like pre-gaming….sh-shit’s about to go...about to pop off!”

He stopped at a round, polished white hatch on the floor and pulled it open with little effort. The surface of the Wyledimm’s dark slurping waters resembled the rainbow sheen of wet oil on pavement. “Euch…..it smells like…” “Gunpowder and bitter almonds?” Rick completed Summer’s thought while promptly taking her helmet and fastening it over her head.

“Y-You should be able to hear me….Wait…” He then fiddled with a nearly invisible wire communicator around his ear which extended to his mouth. The sound of feedback filled your own helmet. “Rick. What do you really expect them to do while we’re down there? It doesn’t feel right, leaving now…”

“Trust me, I’m an old hat at this kind of shit. Th-They’ll do some chanting, probably wave around some _uucch_ ceremonial _trident_ or whatever the hell, get all turnt off...o-off of…” He inhaled deeply through his nose and unleashed a practically sexual groan. “Unghh _yeeaaahh_ that’ssomegoodshit….”

His splattered pupils didn’t reassure you but as Rick predicted, your roguish instincts were kicking in and suddenly all you could think about was the promise of treasure in the depths of the trench. It was almost as if those abandoned riches were calling your name.

“Sort of a funny coincidence, their ritual lining up with our best chance to get sea glass b-but we can talk about fallacies and synchronicity later. First I’m gonna use the power of their gods f-for my...my own designs! It’s gonna fuckin rule!”

“Wh-What designs, Rick? What’re you gonna-Augh!” Morty’s scream rang out as Rick pushed him into the water. “Jeez!” The boy exclaimed softly and you watched his scuba line unroll from a giant spool above your heads as he swam a little further from where you all stood. As you understood it, your breathing apparatus was built into the suit and the unfurling lines connected to your backs were merely for monitoring your distance and assisting in your eventual return to the surface.

Summer gave you and her grandpa A Look, then followed after Morty, gingerly climbing into the open portal and then disappearing from sight. “Oooooh!” she cried, clearly in awe with whatever she was met with below.

Despite your reservations, you mounted the edge of the hatch, glancing at Rick over your shoulder.

He gave you a definitive slap on the ass, his voice dropping deviously low. “Go get that loot, baby.”

* * *

It was cold, yet you didn’t feel physically affected by the chill of the jet black waters. Naturally these suits would help you maintain a comfortable body temperature….

Closer to the surface, you were treated to all sorts of exotic fish, which paid you relatively little attention. Some in schools that flickered past, some larger and shyer, taking care to avoid you and the others as they swam deeper and deeper.

“A _ugh_ lright, uh. J-Just let me know when you want me to pull you up a-and I’ll come get you. I-If I need you, I’ll give your line a few lil tugs mmmkay?” Rick sounded like he was hardly listening to his own words, as he predictably returned to the rest of the crew to get a taste of whatever they were drinking.

You didn’t bother asking about how he’d reach your lines if he intended to join in the ceremony with the others- you were occupied with the scene before you. In the field of the flashlights mounted over the hearts of your suits, countless ovoid ships submerged in the ocean floor was an eerie and startling sight. A ghostly pale coral had borne a new ecosystem on the skeletons of the crafts, and the occasional bioluminescent or transparent creature would scuttle or float innocently through its hydroid turrets as you stared.

The kids looked to you for an okay and you shrugged, swimming down first to begin inspecting the wreckage. You all must have looked rather dreamlike, descending into the undisturbed ruins with floppy baskets to be filled with artifacts lost to time.

As you picked through what used to be the control rooms and mess halls of a forgotten race’s war ships, you could hear Morty and Summer narrate their own discoveries while they grew braver with each moment. “Woah, I found a sword!” Summer cooed. “Maybe Grandpa will let me keep this one!” At one point Morty shrieked, but Summer quickly informed you that he had only seen a skeleton and that everything was fine.

You were personally having a field day, zoning in on every valuable in relatively good condition, gliding from room to room and discerning with a hustler’s eye every item worth “collecting.”

In the background, you could hear the strange words of the ritual at the surface, which felt like an entirely separate world from the one you occupied now. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but based on what you could hear from Rick’s end, it sounded a bit like a drab church service. The sailors you had gotten to know all read a call-and-response together, often dipping into another language but otherwise droning on in lackluster, rhythmic tones. Under their voices was the drone of a few instruments; you detected an accordion, a fiddle, a small drum. It sounded kind of busted but who were you to judge?

As you fidgeted with a small antique mounted laser cannon, making sure not to break it before adding it to your selection, you heard Morty laugh triumphantly. “I-I found some of that, s-sea glass (y/n)! Th-There’s a whole bunch of it, i-i-in the….I dunno, it’s a room with a bunch o-of tools…” “Nice one Morty! Here, I’ll come check it out, wait right- _agh shit_!!”

With painful abruptness, a forceful yank at your line slammed you against a pillar, which caused displaced coral pieces and sediment to explode around you. The siblings’ scared voices in your headset signaled that something similar was happening to them.

“Rick...What’s going on up there?” You barked, making your way through the sunken craft as quickly as possible in an attempt to locate them, pulse pounding in your ears. Since when did you give such a fuck about two random-ass earth children? Life with the Chaperones had taught you to strictly balance compassion for others against the potential grief of becoming too attached, so you had grown used to bonding while keeping an emotional distance. Now as you swam, you were distressed to find that they had already managed to worm their way into your heart. That might be a problem. For now you gritted your teeth and activated the jets at your ankles, propelling you through the ossified ships towards massive clouds of sand and metal with your basket full of relics in tow.

You could hear the sound of Rick laughing, drinking, joking around, then his line fizzled out. You cursed him under your breath but in all your years being double crossed, abandoned or thrown to the wolves of the intergalactic underworld, your self-preservation instincts were well-founded and kicking in.

Soon enough you found the cause of the strife- some appalling creature had risen from the sea floor, a portion of its body still hidden underground while its many appendages writhed in the air like malevolent seaweed. Its head resembled a swordfish’s, with a sawtoothed bill and scarred blue cartilage. It was snapping at Morty’s leg and the boy was barely avoiding it, zooming upwards to avoid its noxious beak.

Summer was fruitlessly yanking at her line and calling out to Rick when the thing gripped the cable at her back with one of its tentacles and dragged her towards it.

As soon as the debris cleared enough for you to aim confidently, you fired twice at the monster, which caused it to rear back and change its focus towards you, loosening its grip enough that Summer managed to escape.

Swimming backwards, you managed to get a few more shots off at the kids’ lines, lessening the chances for the thing to continue draw them in. Once they were loosed, they hesitated, likely used to having nonstop orders barked at them.

Before you could speak, the alien fish whipped you with a tentacle and sent you hurtling far away enough that you couldn’t see your diving companions any longer. You couldn’t even be sure if they heard you cry, “Swim up you guys! Just swim up back to the ship!” since you were met with utter silence. There was a twinge in the back of your mind that you tried to resist first, but eventually gave in, looking desperately into your basket to make sure that none of the artifacts you’d lifted had fallen out. All good, as far as you could tell, already resolved that Rick would not get any of it.

In fact, you were about to swim back up and, if Morty and Summer had not yet surfaced, demand that he help look for them, when your flashlight happened over a familiar looking coral formation. It resembled the same cluster you had seen photographed in Rick’s cabin.

Taking this to mean that you had discovered some sacred site filled with especially pricey treasures, you swam closer and found the mouth of a cave.

“Ahhh. Here she is.”

Inside of the grotto, the water level gradually dropped until you were walking on a slick, moss-covered stone pathway. A teal-skinned figure stood over a pink-hued fire, part of her face covered in barnacles. She was somewhat humanoid, with a second set of scarlet eyes across her forehead and two stubby antennae. Her long dress was ragged and wet, with a long patched train that coiled around her. “My little spies saw you…The night the Message was sent. We’ve been waiting for you.”

It was cryptic and not to your taste. A quick glance around made it clear that there was little worth taking, especially if you’d have to talk to this strange old crone, who seemed ready to hurl cliché’s in your direction. The only pieces that might be remotely worthwhile were a few glistening stalactites that you might break off on your way out.

Jabbing a finger over your shoulder, you turned to leave. “I’m actually good, I need to go check on-“

“The children?” She cawed, summoning a pedestal from the ground which smoothly rose to her eyeline. Atop it was a giant clamshell which opened up to reveal a hazy screen, which broadcast (what at least appeared to be) the events currently unfolding above sea level. “They’re safe now, take a look.”

The monster had followed Summer and Morty to the surface, only to be snared by a trap that extended from the ship’s side. The kids were sprawled out, simultaneously gasping for breath and ranting at Rick, but the old man gave them little regard. Yet as she said, they had both made it out of the water and were safe. It was almost too convenient, the way the leviathan had trailed them upwards, only to be captured in a perfectly sized net, which looked near invisible in the sun, save for the occasional shimmer.

“Not only did he send y’all to do his dirty work collecting valuables while he partied, he used you as bait to catch that obnoxious monstrosity. Oh uh, I’m like a sea witch, by the way. Should have said that before.”

Slowly you stepped closer to her. The cave was filled with burning candles and junk from the wreckage arranged in bizarre, somewhat charming kitschy configurations. “You said something about spies?”

A pair of stout salamander-looking beings emerged from behind her. They dressed a bit like Victorian paupers, with squishy cabbie hats atop their slimy heads.

“The human vessel! Open yourself!” “The glowing one! She is the glowing human!”

“Do you truly glow, dear? As us sea folk do?”

A few tense seconds passed and you found yourself unable to suppress your snicker. “You mean….Like this?”

The three of them emitted a joint “Oooooooh!” at the dramatic reveal. You unzipped the suit with a flourish to let it fall around your ankles. Emerging from crevices of the cave, other salamanders blew out candles and switched off antique oil lamps, and a chunk of crystal embedded in the sea witch’s staff amplified the same light Rick had taught you about the other night. Enbmeado’s words rang true; your unmentionables lit up with seashells, anemones, and starfish, burning a bright gold in the dark. All the creatures around you had their share of scales or stripes that similarly responded to the light, though your incandescence had a synthetic quality to it and was apparently notable because of your humanity or rather you were “from the dry place” as they whispered amongst themselves.

“One last test, _Mlaovhu_ …” The witch drew a series of symbols with her staff, as kids do with sparklers at night, only each shape remained quivering in the air, reflected in the tide pools around you. They looked like the ancient language Rick’s darling code had been transposed into but there was one character, a crooked spiral, which you had seen composed by the spirits of the Wyledimm itself.

* * *

“A prophecy? H-How cheap! Bet you told her, s-said she could take her ‘chosen one’ bullshit, and sho _uughh_ ve it huh (y/n)?? W-We already have plenty going on up here, summoning motherfuckers, capturing sea monsters, y’know this Karvesshian Stinktooth…Its sex glands sell for soooo much at the _urghh_ ports of Flernbek Signus…we’re g-gonna be, we’re about to be fiiiiilthy rich. I really outdid myself w-with this adventure, right…right Mo _orghh_ tyy.” Rick didn’t notice that his grandson had scampered away and he was addressing a hatchet leaned up against the crow’s nest. He fixed his gaze on you once more, though at the moment that didn’t mean much considering how he idly squinted and tilted his head, unable to focus. He had predictably procured the ceremonial goblet and had been indulging in a pungent liquid meant to be communally shared, which sloshed over the edges when he threw an arm around your shoulders.

“J-Join the party, babe. Shouldn’t _ugguurghhh_ be long before their _god_ shows up, heh! Good thing, too. I don’t think these..these dudes can handle their intoxicants.”

Shirtless and drooling, Rick hadn’t expressed any concern for you but didn’t act surprised to see you alive. Perhaps it was because he had faith in your abilities. Perhaps he didn’t give the slightest fuck. When you had emerged onto the top deck, he made grabby hands at your form, stumbling unevenly through a crowd of chanting Pisciniates, whose dancing might have started out as graceful and ordered but was now sloppy and chaotic, owing in part to the great deal of thick fumes that had accumulated around the ship. All around you black waters extended into oblivion, the air wavered like refracted light in the heat of the desert, the smell of gunpowder and bitter almonds was nearly overpowering. You had immediately gestured for the kids to return to the bottom of the ship, where they would be a little less affected by these gasses. You remained, however, and carelessly tossed away your helmet. It rolled towards Rick and stopped at his fancy boat shoes.

His eyes had taken on the same manic gleam you’d noted before in the ship cabin, but there was a small twitch of his eyelids when you snapped, “I _am_ their god, motherfucker,” and promptly removed your circlet.

This claim wasn’t technically true, as far as it had been explained to you. It would have been more accurate to describe yourself as a _conduit_ for a god. But that didn’t have as nice of a ring to it.

Deep under the Wyledimm the witch had touched her staff to your head, muttered some garbled words, and promised that it ‘refined what was raw, distilled what was diffuse,’ then told you to ‘go deliver some divine words to those drunk pilgrim dorks before they start an orgy like last time.’

Now you understood. Inhaling the bittersweet effluvium deeply through your nose, you felt venerable waves of nautical magic overtake you- every field of your existence, every level of your being, metaphysical and physical. The transmissions that were previously paralyzing were now empowering.

A warm tingle of energetic seafoam erupted from the center of your head and traveled across every inch of you. In place of your mechanical diadem, a crown of fish bones and black volcanic rock manifested around your head, sizzling with a faint release of smoke as it reacted with the thick miasma.

Past interference from Leone had always felt claustrophobic, like your psyche could not contain his presence along with your own and you were two souls smashed up against the walls of a tight box. Now a new presence entered through your crystal and it felt as natural as drinking periwinkle wine, warming you on its entry, mingling harmoniously with your mind and your blood.

As you floated upwards, shrouded in an amber mist, Rick gaped, nearly appearing more annoyed with you than surprised.

The entire crew was rushing to you, throwing garlands of pearls, thick blue flowers and dark, kelpy leaves at your body as it hovered a few feet above the ship. The sailors with instruments found a second wind at your transformation, immediately performing a strange tune that felt like the haunting combination of a sea shanty and a guttural hymn.

The three suns had aligned in the sky so that your head was framed hagiographically as if by a pale melted coin, rippling in the volatile atmosphere behind your head. Your Rick-made suit melted away like cotton candy in spit and in its place, a Victorian style dress as dark as the Wyledimm snaked around your body, its low neckline peppered with the bright whorls of small, oceanic fossils.

Scowling, Rick rolled his eyes, blatantly trying to look up your dress as you floated mid-air.

You heard yourself speak in someone else’s voice. Pisciniates dropped to their knees in a crescent before you.

“ _Aiukthild'dhrud Xaiogdesz Mlaovhu Ahedhresh….You have called me here, my brood. And now I answer. What do you wish of Mlaovhu?”_

Someone from the crowd cried out; “To end the war with the prawns, o great one! We wish for reconciliation among our races!”

Rick threw his head back, an aggressive belch turning into a scornful lament. “Wooow, pacifists? Of all the…I-I-I thought you guys were _ughh_ cool, fuuuck.”

_“This human man, who has consumed the greater part of the Yxagnnus Juice…Is he to be the sacrifice?”_

Before he could react, Rick was grabbed by two sailors, one of whom brought a knife to his neck, the bogarted goblet slipping from his hands.

“Do you wish him to be, Mlaovhu?” Asked one of the Pisciniates at his side, dutifully waiting for an affirmation.

Oddly enough, it felt as if this Other Presence swirling around your Self was consulting you. Perhaps it felt the conflicted tension that formed in your chest at the sight of Rick at knifepoint, while he rabidly cursed at his captors.

_Take the monster instead. It’s extremely valuable and fierce._ You answered the Presence, closing your eyes.

_“I will have the beast.”_ You spoke together. _“ And I will have the treasures of this ship, even those hidden in secret holds.” _

The band’s song reached a crescendo- the sea monster dangling in its net vanished in a quiet and tidy implosion, while simultaneously, Rick produced a cybernetic augmentation that resembled a slim ray gun, the metallic insides of his right arm peeling back as it was activated before he shot the pair of sailors who gripped his shoulders, causing them to evaporate into glowing puddles of plasma.

Plastered as he was, he managed rather seamlessly to fight his way through swarming sailors, ranting as he did so.

“This might be a _record_ for the quickest an…an _adventure_ h-has- _unnghh_ turned from extremely rad to completely la _aghhh_ me…I’ve got _nggh_ -“ He chopped the accordion player’s neck with the edge of his hand, then shoved him overboard. “ _-whiplash_ o-over here!”

Meanwhile you could feel Mlaovhu continuing to collect its end of the bargain. One by one, storage units full of smuggled goods flickered out of existence underneath your feet. As each was consumed, you felt a bizarre sensation under your skin which started out faint and gradually grew more powerful. It was almost like being submerged in a briny hot spring, but also melding with its waters at the same time. Were you and Mlaovhu becoming one?

_Join the Sea, (y/n). It’s time._

“Mlaovhu’s treasures!” Cried Omlandi.

“It’s not _of_ this ship if it’s _off_ the ship, biiiiiitch!”

Rick had hastily swiped two of the Pisciniate mafia’s amphibious vehicles (known as copters) from below deck, one of which was being steered by Summer, with Morty crammed into the backseat amongst all the goods they had managed to get their hands on before Rick blasted a whole through the ship’s side and they rode the rush of inky water back into the sea then up, out into the open air.

Just as your consciousness was being sucked into a psychic whirlpool, your circlet was returned to your head and all went dark.

* * *

A blast of pink-hued energy tore through the sky in a thunderous ring but Rick expertly piloted his copter so that he was not thrown by it, riding it like a wave and managing to catch your falling form as you collapsed like a ragdoll.

“Dumbass.” He spat, letting you fall into the backseat with little concern for your comfort.

* * *

“Veeeery irresponsible, (y/n). Reckless little thrill-seeking brat! Willingly becoming a vessel for some gas bubble worshipped by ignora- i-i-imbecilic _guppies_. Could’ve partied and fucked, c-could’ve _fucked til we reached_ _land_.” He smacked a hand to his forehead with dismay, then gripped the steering apparatus and growled.

The pair of vehicles left furious, foaming wakes as they surged over the sea, Summer’s slightly behind Rick’s. In the distance, the mob’s ship was beginning to sink.

“But (y/n) had to make a godda _ughh_ mn point. Probably made my job harder too, letting who knows what i-into her already _fucked_ cluster _fuck_ of a head. Y’know I’d wager that _god_ was composed of…of corrupted radio waves from some shitty old radar system down in those wrecked ships…s-still being blasted up from the Trismus, c-confusing dipshit sailors who wouldn’t know a phantom distress signal fr-from their own farty cloacas. Christ. Wake up so you can hear this shit.”

In a smooth motion, he fished a syringe from his lab coat (which he had shimmied over his bare torso at some point) and then stuck it into your unconscious arm as he continued to floor it, pushing down the plunger with a little too much relish.

Rick ignored your gasping, clambering, coughing, screaming and slurred questions as he continued to lecture, spittle flying from his mouth as he pointed at your now nude form accusingly.

“I-If this means I have to buy extra equipment, you better belie _eeggh_ ve you’ll see it on the bill you absolute _dumbass_. Y-Y-You-”

“Grandpa Rick, why do we have these tanks? It makes it harder to see out of my rear view-”

“Because that gas is obviously very special, _Summer_! I pumped a bunch of it into those tanks so we could make food with it. E-Ever heard of nitro cold brew? Nitro _ice cream_?! Hot garbage after you try….eat something made with this gas. A-And here I was gonna make some goddamn _heavenly_ affogato for your stupid asses, but now I-I see _eeeghh_ what trying to think of others gets me!” He pressed the wheel further in and your tiny ship’s already extreme speed increased to a disorienting degree. “Seriously, next adventure I’m not letting any of you out o-of my sight, because apparently whenu _urp_ the first chance to pull some bullshit presents itself….”

“Um, can’t we use the portal gun to get home, Rick?!” Morty cried, not especially a fan of being jostled against so many uncomfortable, if expensive, items as Summer struggled to match Rick’s speed.

“We have to get away from the Trismus, Morty! It interferes with the portal gun’s signals!”

“Wh-When are we going to be….be far enough Rick?!”

“Why don’t you shut…be quiet and let me think Morty, y-y-you don’t…doesn’t it seem like something I’d be trying to figure out, r-right now Morty? While I’m entertaining your simp-simple minded questions, I could be calculating how to navigate us home as efficie _uugh_ ntly as possible?”

After an awkward silence, only filled by the humming of copters, Rick pulled out his portal gun.

“Okay, we’re far enough.”

He leaned out of the side of his vehicle, shooting ahead of the ships so that they soon hurtled into a portal which brought the copters crashing into the Smith’s living room. Though Summer and Morty were screaming until they screeched to a proper halt, Rick’s expression was completely deadpan, and his copter had hardly stopped before he was hopping out and slinging your naked body over him in a one-sided piggy back. As you were still rather out of it, he had to lean forward and pin your arms to his bare chest so that you didn’t merely slide off of his slim, lab-coat laden frame while he marched upstairs.

“Oh yuck!” Jerry cried, pinching his nose and waving a hand in the air. “Smells like someone left space sushi in their space car!” It was almost as if an entire wall of their home being demolished, along with a few picture frames and pieces of furniture, was not entirely remarkable.

Beth, however, was rushing towards the kids, who were stepping out of the copters with still-wobbly sea legs.

“ _That’s_ how you greet our children when they’ve been missing for _days_?” As she embraced Morty, she shouted at Rick over her shoulder. “I assume the fact that you’re carting a naked woman around our house shouldn’t be at all concerning, Dad?!”

He had closed the door before her “We _are_ talking about this later!” could reach his room.

Tossed onto Rick’s cot, you were in a fog of shared memories of past madness Mlaovhu had caused, despite now wearing your circlet. It seemed they had leaked their way into your consciousness and now lingered like a psychic hangover.

You could see Rick leaning over you, waving some device over your forehead and quirking his brow at whatever it revealed to him. Then he vanished behind weird visions of Mlaovhu’s effects on crews who, unlike the cult you encountered, had not been prepared for what they would encounter at the Trench.

Sailors shakily gutting fish and rambling, sailors hacking into each other with rusted axes. A Pisciniate captain looking through a brass spyglass at a horrific sea monster, towering above the ship. Waiting for it to strike.

Sprawled on Rick’s cot, you cried out with a pitiful yelp as if afflicted by sleep paralysis.

Even as Rick’s face was back into your vision, tortured silhouettes rippled all around. He watched your confused pupils flicker towards figures who were not there with something that resembled a detached sympathy. “A _uugh_ lright, (y/n). You j-just lost me so much money I-I’m almost…I-It’s a level of pettiness that is nearly as impressive as it is infuria _aghhh_ ting.”

He began to futz around his room, disassembling one small device so that he could use a few of its parts with another. The white of his coat contrasted with the mild tan he had somehow managed to attain, his olive skin slightly bronzed, his sun-bleached happy trail bright against his slight old man belly.

“Y-You’re lucky you’re hot and good at making high-quality narcotics. A-A-And that I’m still extremely high, which is making me more amiable than I would usually be consider- u-under these circumstances. Because if I wanted to, I could easily just save myself some time, let you devolve into madness and steal all your shit.” He brought a gadget to his eyeline that looked like one of those crystal face rollers and turned it on, watching it hum to life. “B-But then again I could have always done that. Now let’s de-cog that psychotic fuckin brain o-of yours.”

Meanwhile Morty gave two weary knocks which went unacknowledged, then dropped a salt-crusted basket in the hallway. He then stumbled into his own room and collapsed into bed, the slamming of his door causing a few pieces of recovered seaglass to slide out and onto the carpeted floor.


	6. Retrograde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by the james blake song. De-Coggin ya brainnn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love everyone. I wish I had more time to write but it’s been pretty chaotic! I’m just glad to have this outlet and hope you have fun reading this shit. I wanted to get a little bit into what you did with the chaperones in this chapter. 
> 
> Btw I have a headcanon that rick holds questions of consent very highly. Despite him constantly doing shit to people around him without their permission, in his mind it’s ultimately for their good or as the necessary means to an end and I think that in this story, seeing this character continually robbed of control, he makes it a point to ensure she has a chance to choose for herself.

One after another, the visions that plagued you after returning to earth gradually dissolved, like gauzy storm clouds dissipating in the sun. At first the smooth, pebbled end of the device Rick applied to various parts of your head felt chilly and aggressively ticklish. But eventually, you could tell that it was helping to melt away the residual energy of the other Presence you’d allowed access to your brain. You closed your eyes and felt it move from your forehead to traverse the circumference of your skull, tracing the same line where your circlet sat, or more recently where your crown had been conjured.

A small line of static trailed the point of his invention from the nape of your neck when he removed it at last, stretching out like an electric thread then disappearing with a satisfying pop.

Half-aware of what you were doing, you tried to fiddle with the circlet which had been returned to your head and now found it to be fixed firmly, hardly budging at your clumsy touch, your fingers admittedly stupefied by the intoxicant still fogging your senses. 

“Yea _ughh_ , good luck taking that thing off again. Fool me once, et cetera.”

“Jesus.” Your voice was hoarse, though relieved to be recalibrated. It felt like he had “straightened your antenna” so to speak, using his gadget to filter out any eerie, lingering transmissions from your liaison with an ancient god of the Wyledimm. 

“Jesus, huh? What about fuckin…fuckin Malavoo or wh-whatever the hell. F-Forget our frie- our buds that quickly, do we?” 

As you sat up groggily, Rick threw his head back to drink from his flask, the cot creaking as he plopped unceremoniously onto its edge, slumping over with his forearms resting on his knees. You were unsure how much time had passed but you felt objectively better, even in this dim, glorified closet he apparently considered a bedroom. 

When he half-peered over at you with a sort of tired cheekiness, it occurred to you that you were still naked. You instinctively folded your arms across yourself. 

Rick scoffed, rolling his eyes and once again facing the wall across from you both. “Nothing there I haven’t seen before.” He himself was still bare-chested, his coat hanging from his thin frame. 

“Give me something to wear, Rick.” It came out icier than you had intended. But then- you weren’t comfortable with this kind of vulnerability. To rely on someone else, to know that your safety was in his hands and that his own motivations were as spotty as your own wasn’t especially easy for you. Yet even harder was the strange truth that you did indeed, against the dictates of logic or common sense, feel safe. Even as you sat in the nude, in some sad little home, on a planet you hadn’t set foot on in years. 

Muttering about a lack of gratitude, he rocked to his feet to retrieve something from a cabinet that sprang upwards from the floor after a few knocks on the carpet from the heel of his oxford.

He sorted through the middle drawer, then chucked a small parcel in your direction. 

The clothes inside were yours, but not the outfit you had worn here a week earlier. Slowly you unfolded a tee and a pair of sweatpants you had long ago forgotten about. You could feel him watching you puzzle at the sight. 

Judging by his silence, he was going to make you ask the obvious question. 

“Why do you have these?” 

Rick sighed loudly, exaggeratedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, so. Th-This conversation was inevitable; it’s good we’re finally getting it _urgghh_ out of the way. We used to…” He held out an upturned palm, then lightly slapped it to his own cheek as if trying to kick-start his brain. 

“Rick…”

For a moment he looked like he might admonish you for your impatience, then swirled both his hands around, a few rogue drops escaping his flask. “Y-You and I had already…met. Like continually met. Like with…69ing and stuff. Our rela- any e-encounters we had before, those are apparently included in the pool of memories cut off from your conscious mind…I’m sure _ugghh_ it has nothing to do with y-your fashy little beau feeling threatened by me or…o-or anything.” Rick punctuated this with a generous swig, then ran his sleeve across his mouth.

“Sooooo yeah, you’ve been here before. I just wiped their memory of you so their reactions wouldn’t confuse you a-and cause a freak out.” He waved vaguely to indicate he meant the other members of his family. “I-I-I couldn’t have you going _‘why do these people recognize me?’_ and falling into an existential crisis when I had work to do. Can you blame a guy for trying to be efficient?!” He demanded, now pacing and gesticulating. “I knew you were going by a new name- by _Jude_ , after you disappeared.” He waggled his fingers, then scoffed. “F-Fuckin corny by the way, naming yourself after a saint. Next time why don’t you just f-find…take a Buzzfeed quiz about which Disney character you are and…a-and go with that…At any rate, when I first showed up to that floating piece of trash you call an HQ y-you didn’t recognize me and shot…a-almost shot my dick off. So I wiped your memory of that encounter and reintroduced myself as a stranger, which went down waaay more smoothly. In fact you were almost immediately creaming y-your panties over me so, y’know, you can decide what that says about _you_.”

You stammered, aghast at how shitty he was being as you grappled with this huge revelation so sloppily dropped into your lap. You had hardly recovered from the horrifying visions swirling around your mind and now you had to deal with this new twist and the endless questions it raised. When would you have something solid to hold onto? Something certain and straightforward? What could you even consider ‘reality’ at this point? Once again the puzzle pieces of your life changed their shape, rearranged, fell apart.

“How do I know that you aren’t just fucking with me to keep me….keep me dependent on you!” You cringed at the shakiness of your words, but it took all the strength you had left not to wail with existential exhaustion as you pointed at the admittedly innocuous gadget still sticking out of his pocket. “Right after you used me to do your dirty work while you huffed gas with the piscianates…I know I’m the perfect mark for peonage, you basically said it yourself. Are you just planning on endlessly fucking with my mind and trailing me along? Keep promising to cure me while you just go in and rewire my shit whenever you please? Feed me some weird goddamn lies to keep me loyal?!” 

An odd look flashed across his face before it settled into unbridled indignation. You weren’t sure if you detected a flicker of hurt or annoyance. 

“Y-Y-You never stopped to wonder why you- why a fu _ughh_ cking random lush in a lab coat could show up t-to your secret base, tell you he could cure your shit and you just immediately trust him? I-It never struck you as odd how you hardly felt the urge to….t-to second guess me, any more than you would one of your dorky little accomplices? Have you ever warmed up to someone that quickly, (y/n)?”

Rick threw his hands in the air and held them out, his eyes darting across your expression with near desperation.

You feebly gripped the clothes in your lap as he towered over you. “If you think I trust you, you’re fucking wrong…” You told him in a near-whisper, simply lashing out at this point. You knew all evidence was to the contrary, but you felt silly and lost and like all of the power was in his hands.

He growled. “Okay. Y-You wanna do (y/n)’s mind blowers? Fine. Now that my mob money has been poured down the drain, I’ve got nothing better to do than indulge you, right?”

He left no time to answer, pointing urgently at the clothes that rested on your bare legs.

“Put that shit on, I need to concentrate.” Rick was now frantically rubbing the device he’d used to decog your brain against his own temple. After a second of considering your options, you obeyed with a scowl, sliding the tee over your head, shimmying into the sweats and scooting back against the wall. 

“Lest you accuse me of manipulating your thoughts, I’m using this Citrusian Fragnetwand to capture the frequency of our shared experiences…it won’t be exactly the same as your memory, but it’ll introduce a clear enough signal to recall it from behind the filter your dumbass freak of an ex installed.”

He pressed one knee, then the other, into the creaking cot, generating a new round of blue sparks with the thing against his head as he crawled towards you, still smelling of the sea and sweat and bitter almond. Coming to a halt so that his lanky legs framed yours, he deliberately moved the Fragnetwand from his face and towards your own. A streak of buzzing energy followed from his temple to the device, spitting occasional sparks into the air as it neared you.

It hovered close to your ear, so that you could hear the frantic sounds of Rick’s thought manifested as pure energy.

Very seriously he asked in a low voice, “D-Do I have your permission?”

His eyes burned into yours. Slowly, you nodded.

“I need you to….to say it.”

“Yes.”

The wand connected to your crystal, which fizzed to life at its touch.

* * *

You were watching Armqnd pick a lock. 

In the bowels of a Galactic Militia detention camp, you and three others were huddled around a baroque fixture protruding from a mechanized door, which was currently the only thing keeping you from rushing into the sparse room where Doldestry Felzar was being held as a political prisoner. 

Your good friend Armqnd repeated the motto of the Chaperones (on his planet Preqct, the group called itself a word that meant ‘the Cousins,’ which you found to be charming) under his breath like a prayer in his mother tongue. You knew the Preqctnutian phrase well- you’d seen it carved into city walls, painted onto dismantled tools of war, tattooed over hungry dissident’s bellies. It roughly translated to something like: “We will flower from the bones of giants.” You hoped today this would be the case for Doldestry. 

A famous hacker among groups like yours, Felzar had recently uncovered and released an astonishing amount of incriminating data on the Federation’s dealings with the Flironian people, who were being subjugated on a mass scale so that the Federation could extract valuable resources from their planet, Aubrickron-Gal. 

The Federation was powerful enough that it could destroy planets on a whim and such information, damning as it may be, was a grain of salt in the ocean of misdeeds it had committed across the universe. All things considered, the Federation was essentially accountable to no one. Because it had organized the majority of intergalactic, intergovernmental organizations meant to monitor and police any political wrongdoings across the universe, the Federation could evade any of the laws the Federation itself created.

However, the Flironians deserved to have the truth of their exploitation shared, rather than some narrative about the Federation assisting or even liberating them, which tended to be the popular belief.

The Cousins of Preqct, a small planet which neighbored Aubrickron-Gal, knew very well that such information was integral to building any sort of movement to work to actually liberate the Flironians. Federation propaganda was fiercely well-tailored and deep-rooted in many societies within and even outside its purview. It would take twice as much effort to undo its effects.

Doldestry had, of course, been denied any due process. Now he sat in solitary confinement, a punishment often considered to be cruel and unusual, with a single note in his pocket slipped to him two days earlier by one of your men. Crakle, a Gromflomite ex-agent who had abandoned the Federation due to his own moral qualms, had disguised himself as a guard to leave a message with Doldestry, as well as some pills to help neutralize the drugs the Feds were slipping into his food. The note bore no words, only the symbol of the Cousins- two hands on fire, high-fiving. It was meant to inspire a little faith as you planned to break him out. 

Armqnd was starting to shake as he continued to fiddle with the lock. You could hear Gromflomites just down the hallway and it was making your skin itch. “Can’t you go any f-” Before you could finish your jittery complaint, something bizarre happened in the small room you were desperately trying to access.

It sounded like a few shuddering pieces of the air itself shifting apart as an inverted bubble of plasmic energy shined a neon green against the stark whiteness of his cell.

“W-Wait-” Doldestry leapt away from the sudden tear in reality which he seemed to recognize, holding up a hand to it in plea. “Not right now, seriously,” he begged at the figure who emerged- an almost bored looking, slender old man whose hands were in his pockets as he stepped from the bright, broken gap of space/time into the cell and blinking as it closed behind him. 

“Th-There’s…..I’m supposed to get rescued today, j-just let me go home first, I promise I’ll, a-as soon as I get home I’ll-” The intruder cocked one side of his unibrow though he still appeared to be overwhelmingly apathetic. 

“Rescued?” He repeated gruffly, turning directly towards the one-way mirror which would have only showed his reflection back, somehow locking eyes with you and your crew, chuckling. “Must be the little gumshoes that left a trail right to you…. Hey! Rescue team! Th-This dude owes me 20 phlebotinum-coins for a sex thing I sold him on the dark web. Dude’s a perv, h-he’s probably better off locked in here. Dude’s pro _aughh_ bably a ‘where’s my hug’ ass crusty little neckb- l-little incel, heh!”

Doldestry recoiled, forfeiting any chance to potentially claim that he didn’t know what this guy was talking about. “Man I’m not a fucking incel, that was a comfort droid and like it’s a normal thing to want! E-Even Ryan Gosling in…in the new Bladerunner-“

“Yeaughh I’ve seen 2049. Shit, I’ve seen 4049 and even _then_ it’s not cool to want to screw a dead-eyed doll with shoddy AI. Not to me _eghh_ ntion it was built to look like-” “Shut up!” “-To look like Reba McEntire!” The old man clearly took a sincere amount of joy in embarrassing Doldestry, to the extent that he showed zero concern about the alarms going off, punctuating his little reveal with jazz hands. He went on, mostly for his own entertainment. “Mister Robot over here has a thing f-for country singers…!”

You were transfixed by his nonchalance, the incredible power he wielded as if it were less than a second thought. To teleport into one of the most highly guarded facilities like this was a feat in itself. To wield enough influence that Doldestry Felzar fell apart at his arrival was doubly intriguing.

Armqnd had momentarily stopped his lockpicking to gape. “Mother of Gerblqk, that’s Rick Sanchez.”

You shot him a questioning look, then gestured madly at the device which was nearly unsealed. Armqnd coughed, once more returning to his task, though he explained in hushed tones as he did so. “He’s done more damage to the Federation than we could ever dream of.”

You placed a hand on the one-way mirror. “What do you mean? Is he a Cousin?” 

“No. He’s always worked alone as far as we know, with maybe a few close allies. He’s…to call him a legend is almost to minimize his reputation.” A hissing sound indicated that the lock had finally been undone. Armqnd let out a breath of relief in spite of the alarm blaring throughout the building to indicate the breach. You hardly blinked, stepping through the newly opened door with your gun lowered but your finger gently resting on the trigger.

Rick Sanchez looked you up and down, his grin of amusement shifting into one of lecherous intrigue, which he hardly tried to conceal.

“He’s ours. We can pay you back for whatever he owes you. With interest.” You told him plainly. 

“Pffft. I’m not here to make a-any deals with you nerds. Although I uhhh might consider forgetting his debt for….f-for a chance to hit that.” 

He let out a rash of raucous laughter as he dodged the warning shot you let off, which barely singed a bit of his wild hair. Armqnd cried out from the doorway, clearly dismayed to see his hero almost blasted to a pile of plasmic dust.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying right? Deuces!” Still laughing, Rick gripped Doldestry’s collar and conjured himself a new portal, disappearing to leave you in an empty room as guards filed in from the hallway.

* * *

  
Your eyes lolled back into place and you were face-to-face with the current Rick, who stared intensely at you. At some point, one of his hands had ended up on your knee, as he was practically leaning on you for support while the summoned memory played itself out. 

“…..I see…” Was all you could manage to say, with no doubt that this event had truly occurred. Unlike the false pasts that Leone liked to plant, you resonated with this recollection much more clearly. It still meant that you had to reckon with the startling truth that you had already been acquainted.

You had hardly formed your next thought before Rick snapped. “Th-That’s not even…y-y-you haven’t seen the half of it.” The wand connected with your crystal once more.

* * *

  
_“You again?”_ Rick’s voice echoed from somewhere….A new memory emerged.

You and Sammy had tracked down the Orblestite ambassador, after receiving word that he had a tendency to frequent a certain type of establishment during his travels. In a room full of shape-shifting courtesans, Patennae Gavnaplex was sprawled out on a giant beanbag chair, clad in his state regalia and smoking from a gaudy pipe. He was visiting the Ebsekweon Region of Ugdox for a conference called by Federation representatives regarding, among other economic concerns, the Perndacron uprisings in Ugdox’s Bmak-Sector. 

Patennae, true to form, had arrived to Ebsekweon several days early to partake in the Ebsekweon’s famous Freck cafes. Freck was a particularly devious sort of drug, one that even you rarely indulged in, and that wasn’t because of its status as one of the most expensive narcotics in the universe. It was one of the few hallucinogens you had encountered that allowed its user to consciously choose what to experience during their high. One simply had to speak it aloud and the Frecked brain would oblige. 

There were stories of Freckers asking to meet god and losing their minds, or simply withering away as they experienced every pleasure they could squeeze out of their supply without bothering to nourish their physical bodies. Some even killed themselves after running out of Freck and being forced back into a reality they couldn’t bend for their own fun.

This Federal ambassador, groaning with a pleasure that no doubt cost him more Flurbos than the average Ugdoxer might earn in his lifetime, had investments in the torture of Perndacrons- their species secreted a valuable oil when stressed, so their trauma had quickly been commoditized. Now that the Orblestite ambassador was in town, he had predictably used wealth gleaned from their woes to treat himself to a night of fantasy before undoubtedly voting with the Federation to sharpen their program of torture in the name of “law and order.” It was, naturally, illegal for Perndacrons to protest.

“How’s that lotus taste, you fucking dick?” You asked under your breath. A few of the courtesans who had been idly stroking Patennae’s twitching body squealed when you and Sammy removed your disguises. You were both high-profile criminals and had therefore requested some advanced projection technology from Abiba, a cat person who wandered from planet to planet collecting random space junk to turn into advanced gadgetry and occasionally lent her services to the Chaperones.

She had given you small pins with funny sayings like “Gimmie my darn enchiladas!” and “I wouldn’t kick a derpaderpbleckian garberk out of bed!” which, when pinned to the clothes and pressed like a button, projected a perfectly tailored and convincing disguise over your true form, and stayed fixed on your body as long as your motions remained relatively slow and steady. 

You had bribed Patennae’s Frecktender to replace the house Freck with a modified variant of your own and then bribed another employee to let you into Patennae’s VIP room. Yours was a deviation from a popular form of the dust, which you had spent months perfecting for this occasion. It was subtly cut with another drug which you usually didn’t engage with called Crungnus, which was typically not self-administered, but slipped to another in hopes of manipulating them. It created a state of ecstatic subservience to external commands, so a small dose in Patennae’s beloved Freck was your only chance at achieving the next step of your plan. 

Now in your human form and Sammy in his skinny Krootabulan body, you nodded at him and he nodded back.

Sammy, who had never fit in with the other reptilian warriors of his race, preferred making prog rock with his band to hunting Varrix, and had eventually left Krootabulon to backpack around the universe. While establishing his reputation as your A+ best dealer, he expressed interest in helping you with Chaperone work, even if it was dangerous, and had proven to be a valuable asset.

Now he produced a small plug from his fanny pack and swiftly jammed it into the side of Patennae’s neck. Its two sharpened prongs sunk into his violet-scaled flesh nicely. Then Sammy handed you a microphone, which you tapped softly to test. Had Sammy successfully hit the vocal chords? 

Into the microphone, you spoke a soft “Yeeeeeeehaw.” Patennae echoed it, his lips moving, albeit sloppily, while yours moved, vocalizing at your prompting. 

You and Sammy smirked at each other while the few remaining courtesans who hadn’t run away in fear watched the gruesome experiment with curious horror. 

You articulated the following commands more carefully than you had ever spoken before. Patennae mirrored each syllable, his voice rasping along in time: “I want to experience what the Perndacrons experience when they are tortured. Starting from when they are captured and dragged into holding. I want to feel their excruciating pain, the psychological and physical, the months spent in dark isolation, the disdain of my captors….in every cell of my body. And then I want to feel deep, heart-splitting empathy. I want to be a Perndacron mother. I want to feel her despair and helplessness. And then I want to watch my son’s life sold off to line the pockets of people who haven’t even been to Ugdox. Then in two days I want to wake up at the Federation conference, with a podium in front of me. And I want to feel the burning obligation to do right. I want it to stay with me for the rest of my life, only slightly assuaged by the redistribution of every single one of my ill-gotten flurbos to the poor of this planet.” 

Sammy’s grin faltered. You had gone off script. Yet the Freck listened dutifully. Patennae held up his hands to his invisible oppressors, their violent entrance into his small home funded by the Galactic Federation. He screamed.

“Wow.” Your Krootabulan friend crossed his arms and sighed. “I hope that works, dude.” He nudged your shoulder, chuckling tensely. “Remind me to never get on your bad side. I think you may have a little bit of a sadist in you, boss.”

You snorted after turning off the microphone, nudging him back and pointing at Patennae’s body as he continued to scream. “This motherfucker helped stage a coup in peaceful Agdrarix Territory just for access to their Mega Seed trade but sure, _I’m_ the sadist!” Even the courtesans laughed, but the mood grew dim again as you added, mostly to yourself, “He’s lucky I didn’t force him to die by his own hand.” 

“Patennaeeeee!” Someone kicked the door in and the last person you expected to see came waltzing through. This time there was a child at his side.

“Huh. You again? What a-are y-” 

Rick Sanchez, though he appeared very much unsober, visually followed the story from Patennae’s thrashing, to the prongs unceremoniously shoved into his throat, the wires clipped to the prongs and the microphone they led to, held loosely in your fist.

“Ah. Ole Pat’s _ughh_ vices finally catching up with him, hm?” Rick uncaringly nudged the foreign dignitary’s ribcage with the tip of his shoe before plucking the abandoned pipe to check its contents. The boy who had accompanied him tried to make awkward conversation with one of the courtesans who shook her head, promptly leaving the room with the others who had stayed thus far.

“Where the fuck did you get Freck like this?” Rick shoved the pipe into Sammy’s face, then yours. You gave an indifferent shrug, which he interpreted with surprising accuracy, considering there was drool actively spilling from the edges of his mouth.

“D-Don’t tell me you made this shit and you’re using it f-for….for politics.” His lip curled. “That’s a daaaamn shame.”

“Hey geezer. That’s Alana you’re talking to.” 

“Pffft. Please. Alana’s an amalgamation of about thirty anonymous drug dealers who desperately want to be famous but are t-too small fry to risk a real reputation. A-A-Alana’s an urban legend college freshmen perpetuate because i-it’s more exciting to attribute every good trip they’ve had to a solitary genius instead of a bunch of random burnouts who got lucky with the one pure batch of K-Lax they made in their mom’s garage.” 

“Whatever you say, Rick.” You responded, rolling your eyes as you pinched some residue from the pipe he still held and sprinkled it in his eyeline, its distinctively lime-colored flakes sparkling in the light. “Let me know when you meet the ‘burnout’ who synthesized Crungnus with Freck. I’d love to see what that sort of _luck_ looks like.”

His scowl shifted into a sloppy grin. “Well isn’t that interesting.”

The prone Orblestite who now sobbed and shivered below you let out another blood-curdling scream.

“Jeez, shut up.” Rick grunted, pulling out a gun and firing a bright red shot of light through Patennae’s head. The screaming stopped. Until you picked up where the ambassador had left off.

Clutching your own head on either side, your incoherent yelling started to take the shape of desperate words. “What did you just do you asshole?! Do you even realize what you just lost us? What you lost the Perndacrons?! That was months of planning…Thousands of flurbos….And it was gonna work. We fucking…..We fucking had him….” 

Rick easily dodged when you threw a punch at his bored expression. 

“I came here to kill this motherfucker. I-I clearly don’t need to tell you all the _gguhhh_ seedy shit he’s involved in, but uh….y’know some of it was competing with _my_ seedy shit and he wouldn’t back down soooo he had to go.” Rick shrugged. So this was the anti-federation hero that chaperones across the universe aspired to be? 

“We will _never_ have a chance like this again.” You hissed. You lunged at him again- this time he caught your wrists and held the tension between you as he went on casually, as if you were all on equal footing, as if you had already agreed that he was right to kill the perfect little puppet you’d just made out of a corrupt Orblestite or maybe as if it didn’t matter at all. 

“Yeah I get that you were going for s-some poetic justice there, but…but what power did this idiot really _ughhh_ have? Haven’t you rea- learned that the Federation j-just does what it wants and the rest is a farce?” 

Despite the rage that welled up inside your throbbing heart, he had a point and you knew it. But what were you supposed to do, overthrow the entire Federation? The Chaps were a big operation but too decentralized to ever try anything so ambitious. 

“Fuckin prick.” 

The boy who was with this supposedly anti-establishment renegade yelped in surprise when you threw Patennae’s pipe against the wall, the mind-numbingly expensive drug rendered useless in a heap of broken glass. 

“Wait wait wait……Listen.” Rick thrust the corpse from the giant beanbag it had occupied and took its place, steepling his fingers. “We’ve been working at cross purposes, sure. But our interests clearly inter-intersect. Wh-Why don’t we order some hummus and-” “Get fucked.” You blurted, pressing the Gazorpazorpfield button on your collar and flipping him off as the image of someone else covered you in a thin but profuse layer of digitally rendered identity. You and Sammy stormed out the way you had entered: as two gromflomites in suits who had claimed to be secret service, merely visiting to check on the honored guest of the Federation. 

* * *

  
_“Are you following me now?”_ The memories now followed each other more rapidly.

It seemed that Rick hung around sleazy spots where you made your deals or conducted business as much as he liked to pop up around high profile influencers. So when you were doing work independent of the Chaperones, (the type of work you used to pay the bills, which mostly consisted of selling drugs or attending meetings about selling drugs) it seemed you still inevitably ran into him, to the extent that it began to feel like less and less of a coincidence. 

You occasionally chose Gear World as a meeting place, since you didn’t deal in drugs that Gear People could physically partake in, making you much less of an interest to authorities there. After successfully securing an alliance with a few rogue Nuptians based in the Caupilect System, you wandered to the one dive bar you knew of in the neighborhood which catered to mammals like yourself. Already in a good mood, you laughed and shook your head upon seeing a familiar shock of bluish silver hair.

“Rick Sanchez. Why am I even surprised?” You pulled up a seat next to him, long past the point of trying to avoid interacting. It had quickly become clear that whether or not the two of you spoke was ultimately going to be Rick’s choice. “So are you following me now or what?” You ordered a bloody mary and sparked up a cigarette rolled in velvety, rose-hued papers. 

“I could ask you the same thi _iiigh_ ng.” He burped, then took a long swig from the drink in front of him, which truly smelled like motor oil. “But I don’t deal in clichés. O-O-Or at least when I do, I-I subvert them, y’know. Y-You gotta play with these tropes, Alana. Unless you like being boring and forgettable.” It was the first time you had seen him so pissy. 

“Uh huh.” You rolled your eyes. “And where’s your little sidekick?” 

Finally he turned to look at you, “His name is Morty and he went and got himself kidnapped. Is that coo- I-Is that acceptable small talk for you now? A-Are we caught up?”

“So what the fuck are you doing here, go get him.” You replied dryly, enjoying a drag from your cig and gesturing for him to leave with a flick of your hand. 

“Because I’m here to get you. Y-You’re gonna help me find Morty.”

His stern expression disappeared in a swirl of chaos and violence and easily avoidable destruction.

* * *

“I-It went on like that.” Rick told you, after disconnecting the wand for a second. He had gotten closer- somehow your legs ended up draped loosely around his waist as he sat beneath you, his own long legs stretched out towards the wall where you leaned, his head sagging. The live ribbon of electric thought that still trailed from his temple turned a deeper shade of blue, he looked down, away from your eyes and brought the wand back to your crystal. “A-And then things naturally started to, y’know…”

* * *

“ALANA…… _guuhhhrpp_ , I-I need….Drop whatever bullshit you’re doing, I need parallexium stat.”

“Not now, Rick.” 

You were in your old base, before the crystal when you didn’t have to worry about hiding out. A loft on Venzenulon 6. You had the entire top floor of a building to yourself to grow and cook whatever your heart desired, as long as the property owner got a cut, and he did. V-6 was as picturesque as its idyllic sister planets. Although this Venzenulon had an urban center, the people lived harmoniously with the land. 

Life was good. You were at the top of your game, with time to try new projects, to improve on classics, to synthesize more efficiently. This time you were working on an ambitious batch of Drizium and needed to concentrate.

Rick wouldn’t hear it. He promptly stormed towards you, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around to face him. 

“Why haven’t we fucked yet?” He said it like it would have naturally occurred to you. Like it was something you both had been thinking. 

Then- a rapid smattering of memories; flesh slapping against flesh, across a patchwork of settings which were fuzzy in the background of absolute debauchery. Drunk sex, spiteful sex, sneaky, mischievous sex. 

Rick must have lost the thread a bit. Or maybe had a tucked away collection of ‘encounters’ as he’d referred to them which he recalled habitually enough that they began to play out in almost automatic succession.

The two of you cycled through various stages of undress, positions, toys, levels of sobriety, levels of danger…

* * *

  
“Oh god…” You were gripping at Rick’s coat collar, his bare chest slightly flushed now with the shared restrospection as your eyes once again adjusted to the space you currently occupied. Through your sweatpants you had felt him harden. He tossed the wand to the floor, having sensed that you had begun to actively remember things yourself, pulling them from the depths as if they were all tied together by a chain, so that one vivid recollection inevitably led to more.

“But I’m…I’m still confused.” You were pulling him towards you, panting. You felt dizzy, hot, overwhelmed, needy…

“Why?” He breathed, squeezing your arms. “N-Nothing contradictory has happened up to this point. Everything folds neatly into itself. Just accept it a-and we can move on.”

“Why didn’t….When I called Sammy to look you up, to tell me who you were….He didn’t say-” 

“I intercepted the signal and replied from his number. Very, v-very simple. Y-You should probably get a phone that’s harder to hack, (y/n). I mean these are bas-basic crime boss things.” 

You glanced away at his use of your name, your eyelids sinking shut.

_His thumb was on your face, you were in his ship. Drifting. “Wh-What’s….I know your name’s not Alana. Tell me your name. I can find it but I want you t-to tell me.”_

_“I can’t.”_

He was pulling you out of his bed, his portal gun in hand.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go somewhere, Rick.” You told him tiredly, feeling a migraine coming on. The spot around your crystal was throbbing and tender.

“If you think that was a mind fuck, j-just wai- get ready. That was only the appetizer sweetheart. That was like, we were just douching your brain for the dirty, dirty things we’re about to do to it.” He accompanied this with an obscene gesture, making a ring with one hand and plunging his fingers through it. 

Rick shot a portal at his door and glanced almost condescendingly to you. “After the shit you just pulled at the Trismus? You owe me, baby. Capital O. I’m about to take a loooot of your drugs. And you’re going to take them, too.” 

“Let me call Sa-” “A _uughh_ lready told him to scram.” Rick took your wrist and lifted your arm up in a forced cheer, despite the fact that you looked like you were about to faint.

“It’s time for a bender baby! Rick and (y/n) psychedelic bender!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've opened up the floodgates, let me know if you’d like to see anything specific with your character and Rick’s past exploits, whether it’s raunchy or nah. It won’t be super quick that I use any suggestions bc it obviously takes me forever to write these and I have a couple more chapters of this arc in mind. But I’d love to hear anything yall readers would like to see, even if it’s just a word or two I can brainstorm off of. I like the idea of doing a little mini-series of some earlier misadventures at some point.


	7. Bellyache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go on a bender and remember more things!! oh yea this one has smut :O
> 
> and the song reference is bellyache by yak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dayummmm. This took me a long time! A lot has happened since I last posted on here. I hope you all are out here supporting BLM as much as possible. Please remember ACAB. Cops fucking suck! And while we’re at it, capitalism fucking sucks! Another world is possible! 
> 
> Alright here’s some more of this insane fanfic. Please keep letting me know what you think of this bullshit because it helps me as a writer. Love yall. (unless you’re out there defending cops in which case….get right with gawd ya weirdo bootlicker! #neverforget rick sanchez canonically beats up Nazis.)

Dressed to the nines in a Tapnappian casino, you had arrived late into the evening, subtle and deliberate as you made your way to a few tables for some casual bets, elegantly swirling your dark wine in its glass (on Tapnappia the common shape included a spout which one drank from, as it was much easier for the Tapnappian proboscis) and catching the eye of a few strange, handsome faces.

Finally, as if spontaneously, you found yourself at a particular table, run by a dealer who was a particular model of a particular android series. This you could ascertain with a quick heavy-lashed glance, which looked more seductive than analytical. The mark under his ear was all you needed- like a tiny constellation of asterisks tattooed on his synthetic skin. A Finch-423.

Leaning up against the intricately carved railing, you waited for the dealer to open the next round of diafidel, a game which took some skill but ultimately forced the players to take risks of chance. Five other multi-species players and yourself all watched with the classy apathy of moneyed patrons as each space on the red felt table populated with a computer-generated image of one out of the 350 diafidel cards in a single deck.

You were there to exploit a security glitch that a friend of the chaps had informed you of. Though the robotic dealers on Tapnappia were made with topnotch AI, the newest software update left a blind spot, which Sammy’s tech-savvy bandmate Derek the Noxious had infiltrated and customized for your use. A certain phrase would initiate a program in the dealer’s shuffling, which then interpreted coded words as direct input to influence the odds of certain cards manifesting before you. You would have to play it cool and natural, otherwise the staff would become aware of your illegal advantage. But you were patient and had mastered your ability to keep chill.

Just as you were about to say the key phrase, you heard it from the other end of the table in an infuriatingly familiar voice.

“I’ve got a particularly good feeling about this round, dealer! Be kind to me mon amie!”

Before uttering his name, you stopped yourself with the sort of clenched control that only pure rage could muster. This was admittedly a twist you hadn’t seen coming but you had grown used to improvising when a Rick-shaped snarl appeared in your plan.

Coolly, you grimaced at him and Morty then turned back to the dealer, whose eyes flashed with recognition. The program was being downloaded now and only Rick’s voice would be able to manipulate it. Fuck. “That kid shouldn’t be here. This is a no-kids-allowed sort of business.” You muttered, before downing the rest of your wine.

“He _ugghh’_ s not a kid, lady. He’s a _guy_. An earth guy. This is just how some earth guys look.” Though you had averted your gaze, you could hear the smugness in his voice. He knew he had caught you off guard, swooped in and stolen an easy victory from your clutches. The worst part was that the winnings meant little to him. What he clearly savored was getting one over on you…and then gloating.

Rick, in a suit which might have looked nice earlier in the night but was now disheveled to the extent that a night of serious self-destruction could achieve, lit a cigar and wiggled it between his teeth. “Can you believe the fuckin _tapenade_?” Even as the dealer responded, “We don’t serve that here…” his hand twitched where the next card would be revealed.

A 13 of the Cactus suit appeared in the fourth slot, meaning that Rick had just won 500 flurbos not even five minutes after sitting down. “HA! Check that out Morty, grandpa must be having a lucky one! WOO!”

He wasn’t even playing it cool.

* * *

A portal opened in front of your bookcase while you sipped your morning coffee, on the phone with Sammy who was assisting in the day’s plans.

Rick glared out of the unwelcome green plasma, ignoring the “No no no no”s that you greeted him with.

A lanky arm extended and before you could react, you were being pulled through, into the basement of a Snazdarkian sex shop, coffee tragically spilt and abandoned in your home dimension.

“W-W-We’re here to solve a _mystery_ , (y/n). Now aren’t y-…Doesn’t it seem silly that you resisted so much? O-Or did I accidentally pick a fuckin square who loves to do tedious bullshit all day instead of help with my cool sci-fi antics? Huh?” He pointed to a dead Snazdark on the floor, who was wearing a ball gag and a fedora, and whom you had not noticed until just now. “Y-You could’ve missed out on this classic whodunit, (y/n), y-you…you absolute _chump_.” Letting the barrage of insults wash over you, you lifted a hand casually to the other human in the room, who watched Rick in horror. “Hey Morty.” Morty had seen you do lots of terrible and illegal things. He seemed in awe of the way his grandfather talked mad shit to you, but managed to return your greeting with a squeaky “Hey.”

* * *

“Listen I know you’re on a deadline, but I just need a quick favor. There’s something in it for you, promise. _Please_.” Rick never said please. You had literally never heard him say it, except sarcastically.

Slowly, you rolled off your gloves and turned off your Bunsen burner. “Fine.”

The next thing you knew, you were in an extravagant living room, too garish for Liberace, surrounded by the infamous Pepligk family and their top-tier goons.

“Here _uughhhh_. I’ll give you Alana if y- in exchange for…f-for the codes.” Rick gestured to you lackadaisically, as if you were suddenly an afterthought.

“What the fuck?” You were more annoyed than anything. But then again, you should have known.

He gave you a look of drunken anger, almost accusatory, as if the most fucked up thing you could do was be upset that he’d snatched you from your manufacturing to offer you in some sort of trade with a washed up crime family and their cronies, who eyed you like a very profitable piece of meat.

“Fine.” It was an obvious victory for the Pepligks, and the matriarch immediately agreed, gesturing for a butler to hand Rick a glowing sphere full of numbers.

“Hahaha, laterrrr!” Rick exited making the pussy-eating gesture with his fingers, then flipping you off, as you were carted off for whatever inane shakedown these cretins might have in store for you.

* * *

“15 kilos of amphetatron a month is quite a lot, Miss Alana.” You and Sammy sat across from the infamous Batdadderan, who was actually not as intimidating once you got to know him. However, this was a certifiable _big deal_ , and you were holding your breath before he finished the response to your carefully worded request. “But you have earned my trust, and the trust of the rest of the Batdadderan enterprise. We can do 15. _On the condition_ that you open the Pvergis territory to my brothels. I’ll even cut you 10% of their profits. To start.”

This was doable. This was a deal nearly in your favor. Batdadderan would grow his empire and you’d get to skim some off the top, maybe sacrifice a little bit of your formal power over the Pvergis area, but business with his people would open up bigger and better things.

In a traditional move, you lifted your fractal dust spoon into the air and saluted. “Batdadderan, sir, you’ve got yourself a-”

The horrifying sound of a portal opening in the middle of Batdadderan’s entertainment center cut your short.

“(Y/N)!” Rick crowed, shirtless, swaggering into the room and snatching you from your seat. Sammy cleared his throat, “Who’s (y/n)? Haha….” He shrugged weakly at your host.

“They _urgghh_ ….They’re showing ALL the Lord of the Rings movies back to back, c’mon!”

* * *

How could you have forgotten? Even his most asinine whims took precedent.

Sometimes Morty was there, sometimes not. Sometimes you’d end up in the background of whatever insane shit Rick and his grandson were going through, yet you were expected to stay present, be helpful and “Look like you’re having fun.”

Occasionally if he was mad at one of you, he’d try to play you off each other. Try to make one jealous. It was as if his constant need for validation or attention could only be coerced through manipulation, through intricate and psychotically planned disasters of at times unthinkable proportions.

The more you got to know him, the more you could see he had tucked both a death wish and a God delusion into his natural desire for social connections. These two were constantly at war, making Rick both the saddest and most powerful man you knew.

* * *

Back in your own kitchen, you tried to duck out of the planned depravity by attempting to secretly chug a glass of StagDet, a crafty little brew you’d invented for meetings with other dealers who had a tendency to sample the wares while negotiating. A nip of StagDet ahead of time and you could partake in any substance and stay lucid, save for the occasional body high or mild buzz. It was a nice ace to keep up your sleeve so that you didn’t make any ill-advised decisions and usually walked out with an agreement in your favor. Not to mention your uncanny ability to consume any amount of the purest, most potent drugs without losing your head helped feed the legends about the otherworldly character of Alana.

Now that you felt psychically drained, distracted by the challenge of keeping up with and processing the memories of Rick that kept flowing back to you….your heart simply wasn’t in this promised bender.

Quietly sorting through the cupboards, you could hear him few feet away, a chaotic one-man storm of excitement flitting from each station where you had meticulously organized your multitude of psychoactive operations. Some were experiments or ongoing projects, while others were well-oiled machines of production that would make any trafficker in the known universe drool with envy.

Rick’s manic glee carried him from plump, mutated poppies to jars which collected condensation from the microhabitat of a dozen illegal chapiaheh frogs. He practically groaned with arousal at the sight of a huge chunk of drizium floating at the top of a well-maintained jug of effervescent blue liquid.

More often than not you were up for the sort of fun he was gunning for, but it felt like your mind was a wrung out dishrag and fucking with it further would be pushing things too far. You already felt on the brink of madness- it was probably better not to tempt fate and to simply accompany Rick as a Designated Driver while he indulged. The StagDet sizzled as you poured it from a canister into a vintage frosted tumbler you had found at a thrift store on Titan, the largest moon of Saturn and your favorite place to visit for Earthen tchotchkes.

“Nice try but _nope_.” Rick plucked the glass from your guilty hand before you could drink any of its contents. “I-I know your ways, (y/n). You may think you don’t have _ways_ or that your _ways_ are _unknowable_ , b-but you do and they aren’t. So uh, yeah. You’re going on this one too, babe. Tha _agghhh_ nk me later.”

Gripping your wrist and babbling on, he then giddily tugged you towards the parlor, where he had apparently plucked all manner of paraphernalia from your workplace and laid them out according to his grand schemes on your large coffee table.

One glance and you could tell they were sorted chronologically, with a vision in mind of which high should follow which in order to get the best out of your assemblage of chemicals.

He smirked at you proudly until, after a thoughtful pause, you began to shuffle a few drugs around, tapping your chin as you slid a shiny Garbexian pipe towards the other side of two hits of caramelized Bubbledrek.

“What the fu- no, no nononono…” Rick blustered, joining your side to shove each item back into place.

For a while you both debated the position of K-Lax versus Paralexium and whether you should end your multiple-day bender with weed or Spektaculect-D10. Eventually you came to a compromise, with most of his original plan in tact, though he had allowed you a few minor adjustments.

“I arranged a-a-a few things for us. How ‘bout we let it rip?” He jabbed his thumb towards the window and you realized that, while you had been on earth at his family’s home or sailing across the Wyledimm, he had left his craft outside the base where you had been squatting. How cute.

* * *

You simultaneously felt like you were riding in the janky little spaceship for the first time yet had deeply missed its absence. Back in your living room he had revealed a hatch under one of your rugs which you hadn’t even known about, where he had stored about a dozen different weapons, various sex toys and emergency snacks. There were also a few of his patented long-sleeved shirts, which he pulled on before shimmying back into his coat, brow raised at you as if daring you to ask how long it had been there.

Meanwhile you had changed into one of your favorite outfits- a splendid daisy-colored jumpsuit you’d been gifted by one of the most prominent art filmmakers of the Wily-Sessersunt Providence and fresh white sneakers, plus an armful of priceless bracelets and a silk scarf around your neck. It felt like the beginning of a classic Rick adventure. Only now there was an electric tiara frozen in place around your skull and a stone lodged into the back of your head.

While you rode shotgun, all of your emotions were contradictory and overwhelming- you felt as though you were being reunited with Rick and yet that the memories you had access to now had taken place in some other lifetime. Part of you wanted to be close to him, comforted by him, even held tenderly and reassured….but you knew well enough that it wasn’t going to work that way.

He would, as per usual, show you how this was going to work and you were going to be dazzled and maybe terrified and maybe pushed further past the veil of reality and your own sanity than you thought you could have gone and then sent to the pit of your mortality. Maybe not in that order and maybe not all with his help. But you knew for certain that he was the most volatile drug you had ever encountered and that, with all your posturing and plays for power, you were at his mercy, and that was inevitably what got you so high.

_“-One of the most powerful humans this side of the multiverse. A truuuue rebel- wanted by the Federation and feared by the underworld.”_

Staring out of the transparent dome of the craft, you watched the gaseous pink atmosphere of a small planet clear to reveal a bustling city. Rick dipped towards a crowded street full of especially vibrant nightlife while the words of his past self echoed in your mind.

_“So what’s she doing all helpless and tied up in my bed?”_

“You’ve heard of….I assume you know about K-Lax’s interactions with Burnt Emsruth, ri _iiiighhh_ t?” He was speaking, thank god, effectively interrupting his own quote and tearing you from your rushing thoughts. What was he asking? Oh yeah…K-Lax and that poison Emsruth colloquially called ‘Ruth’ that Lax-heads liked to go on about. It always sounded like bullshit to you so you weren’t sure why he was bringing it up, but you responded nevertheless.

“I’ve heard that Emsruth supposedly combines well with K-Lax, extends the high or something. Never tried it though.” You watched him steer as the ship landed in an alley. “Always figured it was like oranges and acid.”

His expression was mysteriously smug. “Well w-we’re going to a, uh…Dalaernyan Emsruth bar for our first stop sooo.” He glanced at you suggestively. You were already patting your purse for the K-Lax. In turn, he pressed a button on his dashboard which produced a small table for you which folded out into your lap so you could prepare the lines.

Touching softly under the table once you were done, Rick separated it from the cable it was connected to so that it floated, propelled by two tiny rockets, towards your face. You merely glanced at him as he watched you with a serious look (there were few things the two of you treated as solemnly as The First Hit) before you leaned forward with an authoritative “Bottoms up!” sweeping across the mound of powder with a practiced movement. “ _There_ she is.” Rick said with a grin, almost to himself. Greedily, he guided the table towards himself as you felt the warm glow spread rapidly through your bloodstream, lighting up your nerve endings and creeping around your eyeballs….Next thing you knew, you were inside a gigantic dance hall.

Candy-colored lamps hung from a honeycombed ceiling, around which a cloud of tiny bug-like creatures would periodically swim, spraying bright sparks like pollen into the air. So many dozens of hookahs were actively being used by spectators, which released a strange, fragrant vapor, contributing to the jungle-like atmosphere. The room, teeming with all manner of plants (vines and flowers, carnivorous and otherwise) pulsed with the music of a live band, composed of about ten Dalaernyans playing a hodge-podge of instruments that produced a multi-textured sound unlike anything you had ever heard, and which, if the K-Lax you had just ingested were fire, would be equivalent to a hearty splash of gasoline.

Consumed with an overwhelming urge to dance, you let your hips start to sway, admiring the fantastical writhing mass of bodies which undulated in time with the spirited ensemble.

As your pounding heart pumped the drug through your veins, it was like the sheer tingling giddiness of it might overflow out of you, like you might not be able to contain the rush of intoxicated joy. You looked to Rick, who was already dancing, and met his grin with your own, laughing out loud. You were then in the center of the crowd, moving without a single shred of self-consciousness as the only other human in the club threw his hands over his head and deployed all his best moves with zero inhibition, his half-lidded eyes the classic neon blue before he squeezed them shut for an especially daring spin and jump combo.

While various species from neighboring planets appeared to be present, most of the dancers, band and staff were composed of Dalaernyans, a reptilian race which you had never encountered in your travels but were famous for their innate talent of Artful Depravity. Every vice or deviance within their culture supposedly had its own associated rituals and sciences, to the extent that even cheating at dice or vomiting when hungover had a specific set of steps one was meant to follow to draw the most out of each experience. It didn’t surprise you at all that Rick had chosen their planet for a K-Lax high, and as the tune shifted into a harmonious, brassy romp, you wondered if the musicians had taken the same narcotic, as their playing somehow perfectly enhanced the wild, shivering elation that was bursting through you in increasingly rapid waves.

Rings appeared around the lights and streaks of color danced like streamers. Bodies bumped against yours in the tightly packed crowd and each touch, whether it was someone else’s hip or elbow or tail or antennae elicited a small flutter of oversensitive excitement. Every mild brush became sensual and juicy. Life itself was infused with a hazy eroticism. Yes, at this moment you were so, so alive.

The bass of the music grew wobbly, as if it had been dropped into a fishbowl, dispersing through the otherwise bright song like delicious smoke, and Rick was up against you, one hand firmly on your ass, one on the back of your neck, his hips grinding rhythmically into yours. It was almost cloyingly intense as you clung to his tall form, moving fluidly with the melody but anchoring you with his touch. You ached for more, for him to ravish you with abandon, panting against his chest and tugging desperately at his coat.

“ _Unnhhh_ -It’s…..I-It’s a shame this shit fades so fast.” He brought a clumsy thumb towards the outside corner of your eye and ran it over your temple, then behind your ear. Was he thinking about your optic nerves? The neurons under your skin reacting to the movement of his digit? Or was he merely greedy to exchange touches of any kind, just as you were? He hung his head, inhaling the smell of you, dipping down so his lips grazed your neck. “But….but (y/n)…I have some friends I’d like you to meet…”

To your dismay, he separated from you, only to gesture to a pair of d’anjou-skinned Dalaernyans in tight dresses who had been shimmying nearby all this time. Rick’s head tilted to the side as he watched you coyly, addressing them without looking away from you with a simple, “Ladies…”

They made their way towards you with a pronounced elegance, their soft green scales catching the light, batting their eyes which glowed like Tahitian pearls. As deliberately as magicians, the pair produced what appeared to be matchsticks, lighting them gracefully with synchronized swipes against the material of each other’s shoulder pads. They then proceeded to link arms, tossing the lit matches into their ophidian mouths and exhaling smoke from their slit nostrils. It smelled of a piquant incense and you vaguely wondered if a chemical reaction had just occurred, as the Dalaernyans’ plated cheeks glowed azure. A few strangers in the crowd looked on with knowing smirks, as if this ritual was well-known to everyone but you.

One Dalaernyan stood at your side, pressing up against you. “Hello, human. We were told that tonight you are _indulging_.” Her husky accent was delicious. The other faced you head on, her gloved hands trailing up your neckline to frame your face. “Shall we indulge in each other?” Her colleague was already nipping at your earlobe and her subtly sharp teeth delivered nearly supernatural prickle to your flesh. You were putty in their hands, which felt somehow calculated in every movement. Could there be a Dalaernyan code to ‘over-the-shirt stuff’? Pleased with your dreamy grin, the one with the best vantage point angled her face towards yours, letting one hand drop to your waist so that she could pull you against her, taking gentle advantage when your lips parted in pleased surprise.

This Dalaernyan’s black forked tongue wrapped softly around your own a few times over and then she proceeded to suck steadily, working the muscle with a startling intensity. Her hot saliva tasted of charcoal and licorice. You vaguely remembered hearing that Emsruth tasted of licorice.

Rick watched all the while, looking jealous and lecherous. Whether he was jealous of you or the dancer was unclear, until another approached him and he brushed past, stepping between you and your current partner to take the lead. He grabbed your shoulders and crushed his lips against yours. His tongue quickly slipped through, sweeping around your mouth to collect any residual poison.

He then pulled away, his face just far enough that you could see the K-Lax shade of his eyes grow deeper and darker. Yours must have looked like that too. You could feel them almost heat up. Whatever the fuck Emsruth was, the K-Lax reacted to it in a way you had never encountered with the drug before, and you had combined that shit with a lot of other shit. Your spine was a sparkler, fizzing with energy. Time dilated.

….Did K-Lax have latent psychedelic properties?

Rick’s hand slid to the back of your head, which he tilted back slightly after coiling his fingers in your hair as he whispered into your ear-

“Now that we’re _reeeeally_ _vibing_ , let’s get one thing straight. D-Don’t ever pull that shit on me again like you did today on the Wyledimm. You’re _mine_ , not the other way around, alright? Don’t get it _twisted_.” He punctuated this by trailing his knuckles across one of your tits, casually tweaking your nipple through your jumpsuit’s soft fabric. It felt like sweet lightning- you whimpered, gripping at his arms.

He nearly resembled a vampire, looking down his nose at you as he loomed, gaunt and pale. The rest of the throng faded into an amorphous blob as Rick came into a stark focus. The shadows on his face became exaggerated, his silvery shock of hair more wild than before, deep circles under his eyes exaggerating the gauntness of his face. You thought you saw glistening fangs, and blood around the edge of his mouth…could that be your blood?

At that moment it occurred to you that you were more cut off from the outside world than you had ever been, even compared to when Leone had full access to your mind. Rick stood between you and Sammy, any of the people who worked for you- he had access to your phone, your base, and your crystal. He always did have a penchant for centering your universe around himself. Your mouth blossomed with a slight, delightful numbness.

“I could kill you right now.” You snarled, your words slightly slurred. Such were the games the two of you played.

“Try it.” He watched you with a catlike affection as you made a finger gun gesture, aiming between his eyes with your now inarticulate hand, which he reached up and caught, idly guiding towards his chest, then his stomach. His image continued to morph. Now he looked warmer, bathed in colorful strobing lights, nearly vulnerable in his inebriated state. There was a glint of eagerness in his expression and you could see the flush in his cheeks, the imagined blood on his face manifested as what you realized were drops of oily Emsruth, which shined under his mouth.

“It was hot, I’ll say that. Ri-Ridiculous. Idiotic. But verrrry hot. You always were good at….at drama, a-a-at riling me up…” As he spoke, he brought a hand to rest on yours, just at his beltline. Softly, you dragged the heel of your palm against the head of his cock, which you could feel pressed against the crotch of his trousers. “ _Ughhfuck_ ….Just don’t forget sweetheart, I-I know how to play you like a damn _violin_.” Rick went in for another kiss but you held his face still to run your tongue along his bottom lip, making good use of the remaining liquid and causing him to shudder.

“I want a sample…of this emsruth to take home with me.” You could barely form the words, furry caterpillars of shivers inching along your flesh.

“Need help extracting some more?” He growled slyly, swaying. “They have private rooms here, y’know we could take a few dal- dancers with us, have ourselves a….”

He stopped speaking abruptly so you looked up at him, only to find that he was staring at something over your head. You gazed with blown out pupils for what felt like forever, watching his form grow pixelated and glitchy, your visions likely informed by the way his gaze snapped into an analytical squint, figmental lasers darting about his face like fireflies. Absently you reached for one of the imagined lights when you heard him mutter, “Don’t move.”

“Rick, wh-”

“Bounty hunters.”

Though it didn’t totally sober you up (an impossible feat at this point) the feeling of steel against the back of your neck was certainly a shock to your system. The change of focus created the heavy sense of a shadow behind you, as if the planet itself had shifted under your feet and gravity was no longer a constant.

“Sorry to crash the party, _Alana_.” A voice of ice, to match the cold foreign object pressed to your spine. This was followed by the sound of the device being powered up, though whatever was pressed against your crystal apparently didn’t produce the desired effect, because the person holding it cursed after a few confusing seconds and your tiara thrummed once with a low pulse of neutered warmth.

“Hey what the fuck!” They spat, fumbling. “Demrona said this shit would completely paralyze her if we touched that fucking rock. Is this a faulty wand or what? Did you put the right settings in?!”

“Look it doesn’t matter! Just incapacitate her and-”

The would-be assassin’s accomplice was abruptly cut off when Rick produced a narrow quadranium-charged sword from some inside pocket, extending it with the press of a button and casually swiping off one of the assailant’s arms, the blade crackling in the air with what you were sure was highly unstable quadranic energy.

“Oh, _great_ ,” you breathed, instinctively ducking as he did, then bolting in the opposite direction. Running through a tightly packed club in this state was profoundly difficult considering it now felt like you were in some sort of dubstep music video, but a path inevitably swirled out in front of you, the emsruth feeding off your adrenaline as the band joyfully swang into a raucous, high-tempo song at the sight of a chase.

It was ignorant to assume you’d ever get peace with the Federation still offering a fortune for your capture. Thankfully most members of the crowd, unified in common cause for the Chased, the Underdog Party-Goers, the Fucked Up Human Dancers, cleared a space for the pair of you in a show of sympathy for the weirdos just trying to have a good night and pursued by some irrelevant vendetta. Fortunately Dalaernyan society functioned in a way that most of the aliens you and Rick weaved past (a few of whom tipped their hats or raised their glasses to you) likely had some rather dramatic skeletons in their own closets, or at least an appreciation for those who managed to accumulate such skeletons. This was after all, to be slightly reductive, a planet of Slobs which only kept Snobs around for shits and giggles.

The bounty hunters (it appeared to be a group of rough-looking Xenisians) were hot on your trail, shoving past random members of the crowd to pursue you.

They fired off a few rounds, causing the occasional dancer to drop to the floor. Death tended to follow even your most innocent dalliances.

Such were the games the two of you played.

“L-Looks like your lame ass reputation fuckin precedes you.” Rick called casually over his shoulder, having joined you in your retreat. To him, escaping a surprise attack while out of his gourd on mind-bending substances came as naturally as breathing. His body, at times a mere silhouette in the now throbbing lights, moved with instinctual, practiced ease, his coat drifting from his shoulder as he occasionally twisted to block a blast from one of their weapons with his sword.

“Woooow.” You grinned, sliding behind the bar to numbly rifle through your purse. A bored bartender clocked out to take his smoke break as bottles exploded next to him, the Xenisians just barely missing your head as you took cover.

“What?” Crouching next to you, Rick watched you pull out your pistol from the corner of his eye, helping himself to a bright pink bottle of liquor which he took a hearty slug from.

“You’re not pissed because we’re being chased…” Popping up from behind the counter, you placed your elbows on its surface and tried to ignore the sensation of sinking through the wood. Now that you were still, the building felt as if it were rocking over the waves of the ocean. A flicker at the edge of your vision reminded you of a Karvesshian tentacle. Blinking a few times, you shook your head and fired. One of the Xenisians fell, unmourned by his companions who grew ever-closer.

“You’re pissed that they’re here for _me_ and not _you_.” You finished hoarsely, ducking back down once more, more than a bit flustered.

Rick rolled his eyes.

“You _wish_. I’m not pissed at all, I’m pretty sure my pissed receptors are molten ooze right now.” As if he was already forgetting the men who were after you, he pulled out some electric disk which vaguely resembled a pocket watch, and swirled it around in his palm, checking it thoughtfully.

“Right now I’m horny and ready for a change of scene.” He gazed at you with an almost comical seriousness, his voice low as he snapped the thing shut and tucked it away. “So I’m gonna carry you out of this place, a-a-and you’re gonna shoo _oogh_ t those dudes wh-while I feel you up. Got it?”

* * *

Rick burst out of the building as you clung to him, a wall of music blooming behind you both, spilling out into the street like a polychrome wave. Your arms were around his neck, your groin just above his (curse that height difference) and it took every shred of determination you had to steady your biceps against his shoulders, the Xenisians bobbing in and out of your pistol’s sight. With a purse full of about a dozen top-quality drugs worth a fortune and a half dangling dangerously from your shoulder, you tried not to get too distracted by the massaging of your ass and the aimless sucking on your collarbone as you managed to release a few well-timed shots, the lasers your trusty pistol emitted stopping the band of bounty hunters in their tracks. At least one was fatally hit, while others were incapacitated enough that they stumbled to a stop. One shakily raised his gun, but coughing up blood, missed you both by at least a foot. And then- you had reached the ship.

“C-C’mere….” Seamlessly, Rick slipped into the vehicle with you on his lap, switching it on after a few quick swipes of random buttons and levers and lifting off with a tilt of the controls. The familiar sweep of motion was soothing and you immediately melted into him, your physical attention no longer hindered by the public eye nor the threat of bounty hunters (though neither had stopped you from getting it on in the past).

“What next?” you whispered, tonguing his earlobe and letting your fingers play along his shirt collar, idly dipping under the fabric to graze his skin.

“Psychic w-weather event,” He grunted, thrusting his hips towards yours. “Eh, ‘psychic’ isn’t really the right word for it, but c-considering we’re high as fuck it’ll do.”

Just like that, you were off-planet again in the inky emptiness of space, each distant glitter the promise of a new adventure. Rick groaned as you began to nip at his neck, then to your surprise he pressed you away, his thumbs on your hips as he rotated you far enough that you could face each other.

“Spektaculect,” he told you expectantly. Holding his gaze for a moment, you took a second to appreciate the sight before you. The blue was fading from his eyes- tired but alert, lids heavy the way they got when you fooled around. His mouth tightened thoughtfully, watching you watch him. Perhaps the hint of earnest affection in your stare was making him wonder.

“Don’t tell me y-you can’t keep up…” He drawled, playfully flicking your right sleeve off your shoulder and greedily palming the tit it gave him better access to as if hoping to get a rise from you, to distract from whatever quiet reverence had come over your expression. Naturally he only ended up distracting himself, evidenced by the tortured growl sound that accompanied a more aggressive removal of the other sleeve and the way that he impatiently guided your arms out of the top-half of the jumpsuit so that your torso was bared for him. Gasping, you tossed your head back as he locked his mouth onto one nipple and captured the other between his knuckles. He licked and sucked and alternated from one tit to the other until the clicking sound of two Spek cartridges on either side of his head reminded him of the task at hand.

Grinning up at you, with a touch of drool at the corner of his mouth, Rick waggled his brow. “Shall we trip the light fantastic?”

In a move that many would have called cheesy, you linked arms and synchronized your consumption of the cartridges like a sip of new years champagne.

Spektaculect-D10, an invention of a cyborg race called Alnumiums, was about the size of a zippo lighter and held one “shot” per canister. When sold to non-alnumiums, it was often described as “liquid laser” which was administered with the click of a button. One held it up to the eyeball and let the electric light drip into a pupil (preferably dilated, which was extremely the case for the both of you) where it would be absorbed. For Alnumiums, whose minds were half-software, half-organic, Spek was an outdated drug for improving cognition. This particular order of Spektaculect had been traded some time ago for some of your mutant sativa. You'd dealt most of it but kept some for a rainy day...

The pair of cartridges beeped and distributed twin drips into the swollen darks of your eyes. The sensation was strange but pleasant. A sort of sweet spice and a little soreness like from watching television too long as a child. You smacked your lips, feeling the spiciness languidly fill your head. It felt like you had just smoked from a digital hookah.

D-10 was created to better meld the disparate parts of the cyborg’s brain, producing harmony when one aspect of their nature threatened to overtake the other. Luckily enough for organic brains, a dose of Spek expanded and elevated predominant sensations and temperaments of the mind during ingestion, famous for its unique mood enhancement properties. One time to cheer yourself up, you took Spek while stuck in a warehouse waiting for an hours-late delivery. Your associates found you at the peak of your trip, sitting atop a parked forklift praying in gratitude to the gods of the multiverse for allowing you to enjoy an existence in such a sublime world, with a body and soul all of your own, while also DJing on the dashboard of the vehicle, which you were convinced included 2 turntables and an endless supply of modal jazz records.

It was a good choice to follow the emsruth-boosted lax. The k-lax energized and initiated your bender with a quick burst of excitement, the emsruth had extended the high into all of your senses and cranked up fringe hallucinogenic effects which you hadn’t been aware of before. Now Spek would take those psychedelic properties and smooth out the edges while magnifying them to a grander scale, all the while protecting you both from any potential bad trips with its legendarily uplifting qualities.

There was surely a more scientific understanding of what these disparate chemicals were doing to your neurotransmitters but you were always more of an artist than a scientist.

For the rest of the ride you remained melted into Rick’s lap, feeling the Spek massage your serotonin and dopamine receptors, plus remix the natural, secret production of dimethyltryptamine your mammalian pineal gland was already capable of, creating a very dreamy sense of wonder well-accompanied by a ride in a spaceship. Your chin was on his shoulder, watching the galaxy behind the glass bubble around you pass you by, shivering at the occasional impatient touch or bite that he would direct at your form as his antsiness relaxed into a more measured mood. The radio had picked up a nice meandering, saccharine song that Rick would never usually let play. Lackadaisically, you glanced to your watch and tapped a few keystrokes which would mark your coordinates, so later when you were more sober you could find out which planet that song had originated from, maybe visit, meet the band...

Even now Rick didn’t miss a thing and he scoffed lightheartedly. “Really? This is all it takes? You’re so easily impressed. Y’know I could-” “Write an algorithm like this in your sleep?” you interrupted, undeterred by his cattiness. The song looped back around, though something intricate happened in the beat, in the building harmonies. It felt like your pulse changed with it, as did the effects of the Spek.

“Rick…” He grunted into your neck, rather past the point of talking, his hips bucking lazily against you. It was a wonder that he didn’t just fuck you here- it wouldn’t be the first time you’d done it while in the ship. But there was some sort of determination in his steering- he remained on course. You forgot what you were going to say, your arms draped loosely around his neck, contemplating the unspoken intimacy of your drugged-out trust in each other. Then after a few moments it came back to you, carried in by the tide of your thoughts.

“Remember the time…at the casino?” You were almost whispering to yourself as the spaceship finally landed on a tiny island. It was a planet you didn’t recognize but you felt safe and nostalgic and ready to plumb the depths of your psyches. If only he would just listen, not to what you were saying but what you were trying to say. “Rick…We need to plumb the depths of our psyches…” Your jumpsuit was still half-off, your chest bared as you frowned seriously at him.

“Ooooh shit, look at you.” Rick drawled, snickering and turning off the ship. “You’re already _gone_ ….when’s…when’s the last time Alana sampled her own sh- her own wares?” He nudged the door open, spilling out with you to stretch and take in the scenic views.

He himself looked extremely high, raising his arms above his head til his spine gave a satisfying pop, his lopsided smile mischievous and more relaxed now that the jagged urgency of k-lax had melted into something loftier. After kicking off his shoes, he threw you a randy “Trust me babe, w-we’re in the perfect place for depth plumbing,” then tossed his coat into the shimmery grass and led you towards a clearing full of wildflowers and tropical trees.

“Rick….On Tapnappia…” The thought was fading fast. You wanted to ask him…What? What was it about that memory that seemed so pressing now?

“N-Not right now, baby…” Desperate to reveal whatever was behind this so-called psychic weather event, he shushed you, gripping your shoulders. Growing too evasive to recall, the mysterious idea ebbed away from you, replaced now by the ache between your legs that responded so ardently to the way his gruff voice had lowered with want.

“There’s no time, (y/n)…I know you can…you can feel it….” he told you, leaning his tall frame against yours and dragging his hands down your torso, catching the sides of your floppy jumpsuit, guiding the rest of it off of your body with ease. You felt him steady your hips as you lazily slipped out of your sneakers and stepped free of the fabric that had pooled up on the ground. It felt good to be naked here. The atmosphere was a blend of colors- gold and rust. His mouth found yours and within seconds, his spindly fingers brushed against your warmth, stroking with an unreserved fondness and occasionally dipping a finger or two inside of you. God you were already so wet.

“Yeeeeah, here i-it go- here it is….” With one eye cracked open, Rick noted some strange floral-smelling fog that was gathering around you. “Look.” With his free hand, he pointed to the sky, then used his other to circle around your clit. A sudden trickle of blue-green light waves, smoky streaks across the horizon, accompanied the grand sensations his touch was producing.

“…Geomagnetic connections…” Rick’s hand returned to your hip, while his fingers deftly plunged back into you, this time more energetically. “Y-Y-You remember….In the nineties, that shit…Th-That windows media player visualization shit? This is that but…But with n-natural _ughhh_ phenomenon…A-And instead of, o-of music….” You were sure there was more to his explanation but his words began to slur and falter, solely occupied with the pumping of his fingers, quickened by the unzipping of his pants and the removal of his eager cock, which you managed with a few quick, decisive movements.

At first your lids drifted closed as you both pleasured each other hungrily, your thumb grazing the head of his cock, slick with precum, which you nursed and slid back down his shaft, eliciting a more animalistic groan. Rick’s head tilted back and you remembered the novelty of your settings, opening your eyes again long enough to watch the change of the sky. The warm colors grew duskier. Rick inhaled sharply, catching you off guard, pressing a finger to your g-spot and massaging your clit with his thumb. A strike of yellow lightning above the two of you illuminated the wicked look in his eyes and the roiling thunder that followed was nearly enough to mask the sound of your toe-curling orgasm.

He gave no time to recover, crumbling underneath you to come face to face with your pussy. At first, all he did was talk, clumsily pulling his shirt over his head as he rambled about how _this_ was real perfection.

“This is it. The….The entire multiverse.” He was _gone_ , his hands gripping your trembling thighs with the intense wonder of a fucked up scientist. “Tucked away…Fuck the atom! I-I-It all revolves around this bundle of nerves. Mu-Multiplied out b-by a billion! A trillion….I-I-Infinity.. The e-essence of ex- of…of life!” You felt the warmth of his breath. One hand gingerly parted your lips. “Christ, babe….Existence is oppressive a-a-and this…but this is the antidote…the ooonly salve….the philosopher’s _fucking_ stone….” What could he be referring to? Giving/receiving pleasure? Your clit? …Love? Surely not. It would be impossible to guess Rick’s mind, even as he continued to babble without pretense, unrestrained. “La petite mort…La seule mort…” He went on, sounding drunk.

You were thinking too much. Above you, the lavender swirled uncertainly. “Rick….” You clutched his shoulders, and he glanced up at you with drowsy eyes, as if the perfume of your biology had hypnotized him. “Rick I…I think I might float away.” You were in fact, feeling less and less anchored to the physical aspect of this present reality. Your knees buckled. The edges of your self had blurred and you were tempted to finally let go, to join the few wispy, yellow-specked clouds that were painted bright in spite of the berry-shaded sky.

From this vantage point you could only see his eyes, but you could tell he grinned. Lowering his face again, he gently brushed away flower petals which fanned out from your sex like scales. They drifted into the air and sweetly dissolved.

“Stay with…st-stay here.”

Artfully, he ran his tongue along your folds and then sucked on your most sensitive point, causing you to plummet back into your body and the sky to open up with fire, meteors streaking all around your little island.

How you’d missed his sexual ministrations. His tongue’s reunion with your core was nearly enough to bring tears to your eyes, your third opening with a jolt in the center of your forehead. You could see the connections now- between every sensory experience the two of you shared and the reactive nature of this planet. It was all mapped out before you, in its clear, psychic form, like the ghostly blueprint of an intricate machine. Yet it was more than that. You saw the plane of the unspeakable, the unexpressable. You gripped his shoulders and watched the sprays of sparkling light that accompanied the countless meteors which rained through the dome around you. 

The things that he could do with his mouth alone, complimented by his clear ability to read and interpret even the slightest twitch of pleasure, were unmatched. As with everything he did, his personality was stamped right on his methods of giving head: sly, teasing, raunchy. Only Rick could make an act like this somehow selfish. Usually when you inevitably came, you knew it was for his pleasure, when he wanted it.

But it would take a moment before cumming again. At this time he merely ravished you. Now as he brought you close, then backed away, it was to extend your pleasure, not to exercise power. Now as he swept his tongue, sucked and flicked, it felt nearly pious, like worship.

In the gold-tinged sky above you, a pale blue moon emerged. His mouth had left you. A cloud of white bats exploded from the treetops, riding the current of a soft, lazy breeze.

Rick was pulling you, tumbling down onto him. You planted your hands on the ground and positioned yourself properly. It was clumsy, yet each movement felt cosmically intentional. Like every action was a series of watercolor paintings which bled into the next.

Chuckling, he adjusted himself before the head of his dick brushed against your entrance, causing his eyes to flutter back, a shining, gyroscopic halo rotating around his head as he growled. After that there was no going back, no choice- he slipped into you, into what was almost certainly _oblivion_.

The both of you moaned. His hands dug into your hips and you began to rock back and forth, filled up and feeling a second orgasm quickly begin to build.

“Fuck babe…” He gazed up at you, drooling and ecstatic. His thumb found its way to your clit and he began to thrust with your rhythm. Rick’s bare torso was wiry and scarred. You knew it well, had planted your hand on it many times as you did now, leveraging for a better angle which he aided in, hitting your g-spot with astounding accuracy. There was a welling up inside you, then blinding light. This time a few hot tears did roll down your cheeks at the mere force of the rush.

You were no longer sure which parts of the scene were the planet and which were the spek-d10, but it didn’t matter when you came together. The ground itself seemed to moan, and you realized after you caught your breath again that a not-so-distant volcano was spewing glowing ash into the air.

“Oh, oh Rick…” you stuttered in a hoarse voice.

“I know (y/n), I know. Goddamn.” He did not, in fact, "know." His eyes were closed and he was rubbing his face as he sprawled out underneath you, savoring the way his juices mingling with yours, refusing to pull out for the moment.

“No, _look_.” Rick heard the tone in your voice and finally looked, only to see that there were tears forming in your line of vision. He brushed a finger underneath your third eye, which was still wide open. “That good, huh?” Of course he would interpret your flustered attempts at a warning as a compliment.

Finally he followed your gaze to the massive mountain, which was starting to spew magma.

"Shit!" He gestured for you to move (perhaps he didn't have the willpower to pull out, even with the threat of a volcanic eruption) and you did, tragically detaching from him with a frustrated sigh.

“Hurry hurry hurryyyy!” He cried, apparently not so worried that he could keep from smacking your ass while you gathered your clothes.

* * *

“Then I’ll be back with the check, _buster_.”

A few substances and planets later, you eventually found yourselves in a greasy Cricksetsian diner, right on the edge of the Cricksetsia Quadrant. This was your preferred last stop for benders. Whether he’d admit it or not, Rick had a thing for traditions. You guessed that he didn’t see his old friends as much as he used to (though you didn’t pry) so this surely meant a lot more than it used to. Maybe that was why he was so pissy that his favorite imitation mcdonald’s sprite was no longer on the menu.

He was predictably chugging from his flask after snapping at the waitress, who looked like a green-skinned car hop from the fifties, save for her antennae and compound eyes.

You were mostly sober now, if a little stoned, and regrettably watched her stalk away in anger.

You knew you presently had to ask two inevitable questions and her exit meant that there was no more avoiding it. The first question would bring you from a world of endless partying and indulgence back to a Timeline, to the world of responsibilities and obligations. Being here meant it was time to say it out loud.

“…So how many days have we been away from earth?”  
  


“What do you care?”

You were too sleepy to clap back. “….I guess I technically don’t.”

The silence in your conversation was filled by some corny gromflomite song that was playing from a radio by the register.

“It’s been fi _iiiigh_ ve days.” He eventually blurted, playing idly with a salt shaker.

“Only five? Really? And already rounding out?”

Rick looked tired as fuck but he still simmered, scowling at you. He no longer wore his lab coat (where was it again?) and one sleeve of his blue shirt was pushed up unevenly. You had drawn clockwork orange style eyelashes under his right eye because you thought it would be funny while he had rolled a joint a few hours ago in the parking lot of a virtual reality arcade. And his hair was handsomely erratic, a bit flattened on one side where he had briefly passed out with his head on the asphalt of an Urbgrekian city while you tried to explain to angry citizens that his barfing all over a holy statue was not actually meant to be insulting.

“Whatever, y-you know you can’t party like you used to either. Sto _ooghhh_ p trying to show off, it’s de- i-i-it’s y-…..e-embarrassing.”

You pushed your food around on the plate, ignoring him as a certain sense of doom settled over you. It was time for the second question, which might cause you to branch off from the original timeline you had been on, the before-bender timeline, into a scary, upsetting realm which you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

The fragnet wand had pulled many hidden things to the surface of your waking mind, including things that Rick might not have wanted you to know. He had done a messy job and so many psychoactive drugs must have turned your psyche into a laundry machine or a rock tumbler, sloshing around everything buried and dark until it was all exposed for closer examination. An unintentional clarity. It had carried with it a terrible pain which you had not named yet. And now that you were more or less yourself again, it was time for names.

“I remembered what I was getting at, the thing about the casino.”

* * *

It was fresh in your head, as if it had just happened yesterday. You had been at Tapnappia to raise funds for the Chaperones, who were planning an ambitious takeover of the headquarters of a reactionary gang in the Twimbuk region of Paris (not that Paris).

Rick’s meddling was obnoxious and inconvenient, but there were other ways for you to get paid. There was something else, aside from the card game, a shadow that hadn’t been there before but was planted after the mingling of your memories. He had stepped away from the table for a time, leaving Morty in charge of his chips, to take care of something bigger. A trade.

* * *

“You weren’t just there to steal my flurbos. You met with someone that night.”

Rick was eating dry toast, which you didn’t tease him for in spite of the fact that it would almost certainly get a rise out of him. Anything else and he might have thrown up again. You couldn’t really talk, picking at unsweetened oatmeal and eggs.

“Why are y-?” He shook his head. “No...I know why. I know wh-what you’re getting at. Listen, we have different alignments, (y/n). You know it, I know it. It’s an understanding that we _have_ and if you _question_ it, shit starts to f-fall apart. Don’t ruin this bender, (y/n).”

“The bender’s over.”

He grimaced but said nothing, averting his eyes and bringing his mug (after pouring his flask into the lukewarm coffee) to his face, staring out the window.

“I _urpp_ …I don’t care about the chaperones or the federation _or_ the Twimbuk region. Whoever’s in my way, I only care about getting them _out_ of my way. Otherwise, the shit’s irrelevant to me. I know you fancy yourself a Robin Hood type but the multiverse doesn’t…doesn’t _operate_ that way and someday you’ll see that sweetheart. My business dealings and my cash grabs are only that. _Cash_. _Grabs_.” He emphasized this with two jabs of his finger into the sticky table top. “If you wanna try and extract any sort of morality from anything I’ve done, don’t bother. It’s a waste of time. Morality is for posers. I’ve transcended that shit. Noooo _ughh_ need for it.”

This was a debate you both had once or twice since meeting. It was clear that he had missed the subtext and maybe thought that you were trying to turn him into a good doer. You would have to speak more plainly, to directly confirm your creeping suspicion.

“You met with someone. I used to wonder who it was…But now it’s there, somewhere in my head….” The mind blowers had not only returned your own past thoughts to your subconscious, but augmented them with some of Rick’s knowledge too. Perhaps to his discredit.

“Rick. You weren’t just there to mess with me. You had some kind of business deal.”

“So fucking what? It’s aaaall just diafidel sweetheart.”

You laid your spoon down gently.

“It was Leone.”

His face turned pale.

Had he forgotten? Had he realized who he was dealing with? He had given something very valuable, very precious, very dangerous to Leone, _your_ Leone that night.

* * *

You could now see it plain as day. First from your perspective, then his. Scooting back from the table, mocking the other players, winking at you then leaving you behind, ambling drunkenly to a VIP section, stealing a martini, being brought down a corridor, patted down by security…And there was Leone, with three obravadian women fawning over him.

“Paa _ughh_ yy up bitch.” Rick tossed him a tiny but secure metallic box, plopping into a posh armchair in front of him and boredly stretching his legs onto the table.

Leone scrambled for the package, horrified that this man would throw something so valuable like it was trash.

“Let me look at it first, dickwad.” Leone muttered, waving away the women so that one of his men could come forward and inspect it.

A garblovian in a velvet suit jacket approached, taking the box and carefully removing the object nestled in it to observe with a flashlight and a fancy little eyeglass. “Gaghhablah.” Said the assistant with a grim finality.

In the light, the crystal shined pure as daybreak.

* * *

“Put it down, (y/n).”

“I remember everything.”

It was disappointing that you couldn’t hide the hurt from your voice. Usually you were pretty good at separating emotions from the conversation. But this was a little too much.

Rick’s hands were up but he still looked like he was in control, his brow furrowed confidently.

“You _think_ you remember. What you apparently _don’t_ remember is that I put a series of _nanobots_ in your pistol that’ll explode your shit if you try to shoot me!”

It was far-fetched but it was enough to make you second guess yourself for a split second, your hand wavering.

“HA!” Rick smacked the pistol out of your hands. “Sike! Nanobots you believed that sh- HEY!” Reacting just as quickly, you managed to snatch the portal gun from his side of the table. You had kept an eye on it for the whole meal, knowing that confrontation would probably end up this way.

You spun the dial as you had seen him do many times before, all the times he’d used it to escape consequences, to leave you high and dry, with no explanation. The number was perfectly random. As random as your first meeting. It didn't matter where it took you. It just mattered that you were taking the gun- that you were leaving before the ceremonial last bender post-meal cigarette, before returning to see Morty, and Summer and whatever other bullshit. Whatever was on the other side of that portal you'd just generated, it was worlds better than looking at him. At his pitiful little scowl. You'd get a ride back to your HQ, and move it somewhere else. Find someone sane enough that you could trust with the extraction of your stupid fucking little crystal. 

Rick was suddenly quiet, watching solemnly as you shot a portal into the beloved diner's window, from your favorite booth.

Your voice was stone. “Don’t follow me.”

He didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYY. Don't worry it's not the end. You'll like the next chapter. ta ta fer now <3


End file.
